


Uh-Oh, surprise

by lostalongtthewayy



Series: whatever it takes [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan - Freeform, Daddy Charming, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, Multi, Pregnancy, cs domesticity, cs fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2018-08-10 18:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7855723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostalongtthewayy/pseuds/lostalongtthewayy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the one in which Emma Swan realizes she's pregnant for the second time, and has to figure out how to tell Killian.<br/>Future fic, set somewhere in a near-less chaotic future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

“Oh fuck,”

The words just escape Emma suddenly.

She’s sitting on her desk, formerly working on some paperwork, when it just hits her.

_fuck_

Emma’s completely lost to her thoughts, effectively ignoring the way David looks over at her from his desk. He's confused and frowning at her. “You okay there, Emma?”

His voice startles her.

Not even what he says, just the sound of it.

She looks up in a rush, but she’s really not looking at _David_. She still can’t quite wrap her head around her own thoughts and paying David any mind isn’t a priority right this minute. “I’m so stupid,”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m pregnant,” she blurts out then —but she’s not talking _to_ David per se, not really —she’s more like thinking aloud. She came to the realization out of nowhere and now there is no stopping her stupid brain — _and mouth_. “I am _sooo_ pregnant, that’s why I’ve been so fucking sick. I thought —I don’t know why I didn’t think about it before, Gosh, I…I’m stupid, stupid me,” she is rambling to herself, she can’t stop, her mind is going a hundred miles per hour and she just doesn’t know how to stop herself.

Certainly, Emma doesn’t notice when David rises to his feet and moves to stand in front of her desk.

It isn’t until David taps his fingers on the desk between them, that she seems to snap out of it. “Oh,”

 Emma’s eyes barely meet her father’s, as he looks at her with wide eyes.

“Uh, I…” she bites her bottom lip, scrunching her face in an attempt to avoid his eyes. “Can we, uh…is there _any_ chance you can pretend I haven’t said anything?”

“Emma,”

She waits a beat, and then just sighs. What’s the point to take it back now? “I _think_ I’m pregnant,” she tells him then, and shrugs. She feels sure about it though, suddenly everything makes sense, and she feels like she doesn’t just _think_ she is, but is _completely sure_ she is.

But she can’t be sure, can she? She hasn’t even taken a test or properly checked if her period is late, but…God, _she knows._

“Honey,”

“I know,” she says looking down at her lap —she needs to find Killian and tell him. This is _big_ and she knows it. “I’ve been so pukey and… _exhausted_ lately, and I thought it was a bug. Henry was sick a couple weeks ago too, but it’s not a bug, or…at least, not _that_ kind of bug. I really think I’m pregnant.”

Slowly David takes in her words, nodding slightly. “Are you okay with that? Is it…you know, good news?” He speaks so delicately, not really sure how Emma and Killian feel at all about growing their family.

She looks up at his eyes then, and holds his stare for a moment. “I’m not completely sure if I am yet,” she reminds David —and herself. “I mean, I have to take a test, but…” She pauses, tilting her head. “Yeah,” Emma says then, thoughtfully. “It _is_ good news.”

David smiles and doesn’t wait for her to say more before he walks around her desk. Emma gets up and lets out a breathy laugh as David wraps his arms around her tightly without saying another word.

Emma buries her face in his shoulder and doesn’t even think about letting go any time soon. She closes her eyes and feels boneless as David hugs her. She feels safe though, knowing he’s just not going to let go of her —never. He is her father and having him truly means more to Emma than she probably will ever be able to say.

“I’m gonna have another baby, Dad…”

David chuckles at that and nods his head against her. “You are, sweetheart.” He agrees, easily. “I’m so happy for you,”

“You are?” Emma asks him, pulling back at last. “Don’t you want to ship Killian back to the underworld by any chance?”

David grunts at that one. “Don’t you even joke about that, Emma,” her Dad tells her seriously, and she has to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing.

“That is absolutely not funny,” David adds, and then shakes his head. “Of course I don’t want to do that. I…I know I didn’t always approve of the pirate, but…”

“He’s grown on you, huh? You love him now?”

“Er,” David says, and she laughs. “Well, he’s family now Em, it’s not like I have a choice in the matter, do I?”

“Nah, of course you don’t…” She smiles and then allows her dad to hug her again. “I have no idea how this happened,”

She’s resting her cheek on his chest, and at those words, David looks down at her raising a brow.

Emma rolls her eyes. “ _Hey_! Of course I know _how_ it happened, that’s not what I meant! Killian and I ---well, you know, we are damn good at making _tacos_ all the time,” she says but then, the laughter that ensues is too much it makes her whole body shake.

David pushes from her and starts choking making Emma laugh even louder. “Emma, for Goodness’ sake!”

“Hey, no need to be coy, Dad. I mean, obviously you and Mom are great at tacos too; look at me and my little brother—”

“EMMA!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m gonna stop now, I swear…”

David draws in a deep breath just looking at her then — _really_ looking at her. She’s pregnant. She is going to be a mother again. _He_ is going to be a grandpa again —to a half pirate, but still, a grandpa nonetheless.

Oh Christ, he really is happy about it. Who would have known?

“You have to tell Killian,” David’s even surprised the words come from _him._

Emma looks at him as if he were crazy. She knows she shouldn’t be surprised though; her father’s and true love’s friendship is no secret to anyone anymore. “Actually, I _have_ to make sure I’m really pregnant before I do,” she says, but then quickly changes her mind. “You know what? I probably should do that with him.” It took her a long time, a really long time, but Emma has finally accepted the fact that she doesn’t need to do things on her own. She has Killian to share her life with, she has her son, she has her parents, all their friends, and now, this newest little baby as well.

Because really, she doesn’t need the test to tell her she’s right, she already knows she is —Still…

“I’m gonna go buy some tests and go get him. Do you need me here at all?”

The answer is _yes_ , there is still so much paperwork to get done, but none of that is in any way more important than his daughter finding out for sure if they are adding a new little royal to their family. “No, not at all.” David says, leaning in and kissing her forehead. He does it so tenderly, in that way you do to a small child, and before he knows it, tears are pooling at his eyes.

Emma looks up at him with concern. “Dad, are you okay?”

He looks at her, and offers a small nod. “I am,”

Emma frowns when his voice breaks, but before she can speak, David tries for a smile and shakes his head. “I’m just happy to be here with you for this, is all…”

“Yeah,” Emma sighs, and nods her head a little too. “Yeah, yeah me too, Dad. It’s a happy thing though, don’t cry, or I’ll just…ya know, end up crying too.”

“No,” he says wiping at his eyes. She is absolutely right, this _is_ a happy thing. “Go on now sweetheart,” he hugs her again, and kisses her again, and looks at her again, all before finally letting go. “I love you,”

“You too,” Emma promises. “I’ll call. Or…not really. Maybe we’ll stop by later if…you know, there’s actual _news_ to share?”

“That’ll be perfect,” he says, and Emma’s knows that is David’s way of saying ‘ _please do, as I cannot keep secrets from your mother.’_

Emma chuckles a little and nods. She still doesn’t move to leave yet for some reason —she bites on her lip, and breathes in and out deeply.

The very second her dad’s hand touches her shoulder and squeezes it, she feels the hot pricking in her eyes. She is _happy,_ which is… _different_ from how she felt the first time she was pregnant. She is probably just as scared as the last time; a new little life isn’t something she can take lightly in any circumstances, but…for every bit of scared she is right now, she also feels joyous, and that feeling is surely taking her by surprise.

“I need to find Killian,” her voice comes shaky and watery, but she is grinning so widely too so she doesn’t care.

“Yes, you do…”

“I’ll see you later, Dad, I love you…”

And with that Emma finally does turn around and leaves the station. David’s chest puffs out with pride, and he grins to himself —that is his daughter all right. “I love you too…”


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

She _has_ to tell him, that much Emma knows for sure. The quicker she does, the better to be honest. She feels as though the news is going to eat her alive if she doesn’t hurry up and finds that pirate of hers.

And _yes,_ technically she still doesn’t have _definite_ news to tell him, but the hell with complete certainty, she is _almost_ sure she is pregnant, so that will have to be enough for Killian —it certainly is for herself.

The strangest part for Emma this time around, is how positively joyous she feels at the prospect. It is probably a lot due to maybe adrenaline pumping through her system right now, alongside maybe even hormones or what not, but she just feels _so happy_ thinking about a brand new little pirate of their own in the few months. She is happy —so freaking happy that there isn’t even room for anxiety or nervousness _yet_.

She knows that will come —eventually, she is only human after all, but for now, when wiping the grin off her face feels almost impossible, she is going to relish in the feeling and choose to worry later.

Once Emma finally makes it to the docks, it isn’t hard to spot Killian from her bug —he’s been working on his ship for the last two weeks nonstop it seems. He would come home in the evening smelling like the sea and with the goofiest of smiles on his face. Without miss he’ll tell her every night everything he did to the ship that day — _everything_. From the brand of cleaner he’s using to polish the floors, to the type of new rope he’s found. He loves to talk to her about everything really, but there is that one special smile he smiles every time he talks about his ship. Emma has to admit she also has a special fondness for the _Jolly Roger_ —after all, that giant piece of magic wood was her pirate’s home for years and years before he found his way to _her._

In the end, Emma gets out of her bug, but almost immediately freezes bringing a hand to her belly —the smell alone of the seaside…and _fish,_ is making her stomach churn. The smell has never particularly bothered her before —right now however, as she gets out of her bug and walks down the dock, Emma can hardly stand it. And _yes_ , holy crap, she _is_ definitely pregnant.

With Henry it had been the smell of the jail’s cafeteria —which would have been awful enough for her non-pregnant self, but back then when she was _indeed pregnant,_ and in a state of constant hunger, not being able to show her face in the cafeteria without wanting to puke had been the worst punishment in the world. It used to bring her to tears on a daily basis, several times a day sometimes. To say it hadn’t been pleasant and ideal was the understatement of the century.

This time, Emma doesn’t think it is _that_ bad yet—after all, she’s been able to show her face at Granny’s _several times every day_ for the last few weeks without puking. If anything, she’s been eating more than normal — _a lot more than normal._

Christ, she really is dense sometimes. One way or the other though, Emma is glad she’s put two and two together now. Certainly, before becoming one of those ladies who realize they are pregnant the day of the baby’s birth.

“Swan!”

Killian’s voice calling from aboard the ship breaks Emma from her stupor and thoughts and she’s glad for that.

With a grin on her face, she looks over at him, and waves at her pirate as he makes his way off the ship, and joins her on the dock.

His arms immediately snake around her waist, and he brings her closer to him and kisses her.

Emma kisses him back but can’t help giggling half way into the kiss. Killian pulls from her, eyeing her suspiciously. “Swan?” His kisses are no joking matter —he absolutely does not think so anyway, and he is half-offended Emma thinks it is appropriate to laugh in the middle of one.

Ignoring his silly frown, Emma stands on her tiptoes and wraps her own arms tightly around his shoulders. She tilts her head and looks at him straight into those beautiful piercing blue eyes of his. She doesn’t speak though —not right away, and Killian goes from faking an annoyed frown, to looking at her actually curious and puzzled. “You all right love?” It dawns on him that besides giggling, she really hasn’t said anything since he saw her.

Emma nods at that, and sighs. “I’m good,” she assures him, her fingers twisting in his hair, gently tugging at it. She does just that for another moment or two, caresses him and enjoys the last moment of _them —_ just the two of them without any conversation of that little part of them that would join them in a few months.

Killian’s first instinct is to worry —naturally, but Emma doesn’t look worried, at all if he can say so himself. She looks at ease as a matter of fact. He lifts his hand then, and tucks some loose strands of wavy blonde hair behind her ear before leaning in and kissing her forehead. Killian smiles when that seems to bring her back to earth with him. “I’m glad, love,” he says then, and she nods.

She nuzzles her nose playfully against that scruffy skin of his cheek, and can’t help smiling when Killian too rubs his cheek against the side of her head. Again Emma sighs, but this time it is more of an impatient sigh. They had their moment now and she would treasure it forever, but now that that’s done, she needs to tell him about the little pirate in the room — _so to speak_ , and she can’t wait.

She untangles her arms from around his shoulders and neck, and instead cups his cheeks. “Can you wrap up here for the day?”

Killian’s brow quirks, looking at her curiously. “Aye,” he nods. “You want this pirate to take you home early?” He tries asking lightly, eyebrows wiggling and smirk playful on his face. He makes Emma nod and laugh in response.

Yeah, she is definitely not troubled or uneasy about anything, but she _is_ holding something back, he knows as much. “As you wish, my princess,” Killian says, leaning in to kiss her lips. He is taken aback however, when Emma kisses him back — _fully._ Teeth and tongues clashing urgently, her body pressing up to his achingly close, and all this, while they still stand at the dock. People around them be damned. People _watching_ around them, be damned. What is that saying again? Better to inspire envy than to feel it? Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter right now because like it or not, this woman before him has him bad and there is no way Killian is stopping her.

Her fingertips start running painfully slow down his arm, all while her other hand is at the back of his neck keeping him close as she kisses him.

Eventually Emma’s free hand reaches Killian’s and she covers his fingers with hers. By now, Killian is only barely conscious of what she’s doing, but he does take note of her grabbing his hand and then moving it.

His heart is racing when Emma pulls back from him. She starts panting slightly; sparkling green eyes steady on his and that so very rare full grin of hers, wide on her face.

“Emma,” Killian breathes her name shakily.

Emma chokes out a tiny chuckle of her own, and shakes her head at him. That kiss is nothing compared to what she is about to tell him —or, well, _show him._

“Here,” Emma says, and Killian notices then how their fingers are still intertwined. Gazing into his eyes, she rests her forehead against his, and then brings their joint hands to rest on her stomach.

His hand flattens immediately on her belly, as his thumb starts moving in tiny delicate circles against the fabric of her shirt —he doesn’t get it yet, he hasn’t a clue, and for some reason breaking this to him is making Emma terribly giddy. She giggles, and if Killian wasn’t used already to her acting overly strange every once in a while, he would have probably worried.

“What is it, love?”

At the question, Emma shrugs. “Nothing,” she says, “I’m just…pretty _happy_ , I think,”

“Aye?” The surprise in his tone and face isn’t at the fact that she is happy, she _looks_ happy, but it is mostly at the fact that she trusts him enough to just _tell him._ The Emma he met once upon a time, would have never been able to do just that.

When Emma nods and smiles even wider, Killian feels his heart doing happy somersaults inside him. He leans in, kissing her but only for a moment this time. Killian opens his mouth to tell her how happy _he is too,_ but then, before he can, _she_ speaks.

“I hope it has your eyes,”

And at first the words don’t compute at all. Killian has no idea what she is talking about for all of a minute probably —or hell, probably even more. She is grinning at him though, full on grin that feels like a gift from the Gods themselves. “Sw—,”

Her eyes widen when Killian tries to speak; it makes him trail off, still confused trying to figure this out. A beat later, Emma pointedly looks down, _at their hands,_ and Killian follows suit. His thumb is still moving in circles over her belly, and then, right that very second it hits him — _I hope it has your eyes._

_Your eyes._

_It._

_She hoped it would have **his** eyes._

“God,” it comes in a shaky whisper, he is suddenly dizzy, and awestruck with the kind of emotion Killian is sure he’s rarely felt before —if ever.

Emma smiles some more, and quickly wonders if she’ll ever stop. “ _God_ is a bit formal, I usually go by Emma, or you know, _Swan_ , but that’s just to you, cause I love ya,”

She is smirking, but Killian is still lost to the world —the movements of his thumb have stilled, and he is breathing deeper than normal, his eyes still down, zeroed on their hands.

Emma gives him a moment, keeping him close and steadily running the fingertips of her free hand over the nape of his neck. The hairs there are short and spiky, and she likes how that feels against her skin. She breathes deeply herself, her belly filling with air and then slowly deflating when she lets it out.

“Killian,”

He swallows, and looks up nervously to meet her eyes. Emma is smiling, so he tries smiling too. She moves her hand to cradle his cheek and give his lips a soft kiss. When their eyes meet again, she nods at him a reassurance that _yeah,_ she did say _those words_ , and most importantly, she meant them dearly. She would _love_ their child to inherit his eyes.

His eyes —the very same ones that were burning with hot tears he can’t stop, and Emma has to force her own emotions to stay in-check.

“A babe?” He whispers at last, and the emotion in his voice is enough to bring tears quickly to her eyes as well.

She isn’t going to cry though. She shrugs slowly instead. “A babe,” she repeats softly. “ _Our babe,”_

This time Killian’s expression quickly changes, and a grin soon takes the place of the barely there smile that had been there before. He is so _happy,_ bloody hell; he is going to be a father! _They are going to be a family._ He would have never guessed this is why Emma came here to meet him in the first place, but now that he knows, now that his heart can’t stop racing and his mind can’t stop imagining it— _their child,_ Killian can positively say she couldn’t have chosen a more perfect moment or way to tell him.

 _Goodness gracious, he loves her. More and more every single day._ He doesn’t speak the words though, but kisses her, urgently yet lovingly all at once. Their hands are still joint down at her belly where their child is growing, and it gives him such a vast sense of pride and joyfulness —he feels whole, and worthy of being this child’s father. This is something Killian never thought he’d feel, but life has taken him through many twists and turns, to hell and back — _literally_ , but now… now things feel right. _This, their child, feels right._

“God, Emma, I-I, I love you,”

She giggles against his mouth and nods, their noses brushing against each other. “I love you too,” she promises but then before she can say something more, or Killian can for that matter, a sea of cheers, clapping and even whistling interrupts them.

Killian looks up over Emma’s shoulder to see _his_ crewmembers cheering him on as though they know his life has been completely changed in these last few minutes he’s been with Emma.

She giggles yet again, burying her face in his chest, and shaking her head feeling if only a tad embarrassed. Perhaps she could’ve hold in the news until they were somewhere a little bit more _private._

Killian in any case doesn’t care, and instead offers the crewmen a wavy hand gesture as though gladly accepting their cheering. If only they knew his brand new _first mate_ is safely growing inside his Swan’s belly right now —things surely are going to change around here soon, he thinks.

The thought alone makes him grin even wider, all the while Emma is hoping against hope she knew just how to poof them somewhere private and away the crew’s teasing.

Killian laughs however, fully laughs, and leans down kissing the crown of her head. “Let me take you _home_ , aye?”

He asks her, and she barely just nods her head against his chest. Killian hugs her with one arm, and uses the other to wave at the crew. They settle down shortly after and go back to work after Killian declares he is going to take his woman home now.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

A couple hours later, they are both calmer and settled, they are _home,_ and after three at-home pregnancy tests are used, it’s official- _official;_ she’s pregnant.

They _are_ having a baby.

They are sitting on the floor, by the fireplace, Emma is tucked between his legs, his hand is on her belly, and a feeling of completeness that is so rare yet so welcomed by the two of them, is washing over them .

_She’s pregnant_.

In a matter of mere months, they are going to be parents —it isn’t a hope, or a dream anymore, but a reality.

His palm is flat on her belly; long ringed fingers sprawled over the expanse that is very well housing his baby right now.

_His baby_.

An actual little lad or lass one day.

One day — _soon._

( _Gods_!)

And he chuckles. He can’t help it. The feeling is so surreal, and _God,_ he’s happy. So bloody joyous the laugh that escapes him is the result of those very feelings bubbling up just past his control.

And it surprises him, he has to admit, when the sentiment is seemingly _so_ mutual, that Emma giggles alongside him immediately.

She’s leaning against him, completely, her whole weight supported by him and she’s peaceful — _safe_ right here with him.

She uses one of her own hands to cover Killian’s hand over her belly. She intertwines their fingers, not thinking, and still softly chuckling, she nuzzles her nose against his chest and sighs.

“Can you believe it?”

Killian smiles at her question, looking down at her face, her closed eyes, the smile on her face —she’s beautiful, the most beautiful woman in this world and _every world,_ as far as he’s concerned. He kisses her forehead, watches her smile even wider, and then shakes his head.

He doesn’t speak.

(he’s not sure he can without his voice breaking so he keeps himself from trying)

Emma gets it. She shifts again slightly, and kisses his chest. He smiles, returning the kiss with one to her hair.

“It’s happening,”

“Aye,” he agrees, but his voice is quiet. “I wish —I,”

When his voice breaks, Emma opens her eyes (finally) and shifts to look up at him. “You are going to be a father,” she says because somehow saying the words aloud makes it all real —more real anyway.

Their hands on her stomach are reminder enough as is, but still…she _wants_ to say the words anyway. “I’m gonna be a mom — _again,_ ” and yet everything about this time is so vastly different. “Henry’s going to be a big brother, my parents are going to be grandparents _again,_ my little brother is actually going to get to _uncle_ a little person younger than him,”

And again Killian laughs, and it’s carefree and it’s beautiful. Emma smiles, her teeth showing, her eyes wrinkling at the corners—a _real_ smile. “There’s going to be a _baby_ in this house,”

“Our little lad,” Killian adds, his smile bright and happy matching Emma’s. “Our little lass,”

“Yeah…” Emma sighs, biting her lip at the impossibly wider smile that wants to form —suddenly she’s having the hardest time not imagining it. Their baby, an actual real person that may look like her —or Killian. She actually hopes it looks more like Killian. She can’t think anything better than their little pirate with miniature versions of Killian’s features.

(God, she really does hope it has his eyes.)

And his heart. She can’t wish anything better for their child, than a good heart like his dad’s.

_and Christ_ \---

_They_ _are_ going to be parents.

_Together_

(Somebody seriously needs to pinch her right now)

“He’ll look just like you,” Emma says after a beat, but then he looks at her, playful eyes, and wiggly eyebrows making her laugh. “If it’s a boy,” she adds for his sake, and he beams.

(Positively beams and she can almost swear the one glowing is him)

“How are you certain?” He asks, and Emma shrugs.

“I just am,” she says and it’s the truth.

Killian traces the lines on her face with his lips, tender, soft, so so lovingly it makes her heart stutter with so much love _for him._ “They’ll get your eyes,” he tells her.

Emma laughs but still shakes her head. “No way,” she insists, playfully. “There’s no way this baby isn’t getting _your_ eyes, I can feel it,” she stresses, squeezing his hand that is _still_ resting on her belly—

and _fuck_ , if that didn’t make it all feel all the more real.

Suddenly neither can wait to just meet their child already. There is not a shadow of a doubt that if anything, this child is going to be loved —so loved. Unconditionally. Always.

“What about your hair?” Killian tells her then, voice barely a whisper. “A tiny little lass, fair like you, _my_ eyes, but, she’ll get your nose, your mouth,” he says, and kisses her oh, so softly. “Your hair, probably my ears,” he trails off when Emma sets off laughing.

She nods though because wouldn’t that be nice? A perfect little new person that will be —quite literally— equal parts her and equal parts Killian. A little baby made out of the purest of love Emma has ever felt. It didn’t matter how she looks in the end (or him! they still don’t know! and she truly can’t even dare guess!) —all that matters is that it is _their_ baby and they will love it, forever. Boundlessly, just like _their_ love for one another is.

“Your heart though,” Killian chimes in quietly a beat later.

She wants to argue, tell him their child would be lucky to have a heart like _his,_ but then, “ _Our_ heart,” she tells Killian instead, and he’s confused, she can tell, but Emma still smiles at him. “Whether we physically share it or not, it doesn’t matter, we _do_ share a heart, Killian,” and _oh God_ , she’s so soppy, but…she can’t stop to care. “I love you, and you love me, and _we_ will love this little baby _so_ much, Killian. I have no doubts about that. This little baby, —he’ll share _our heart,_ ”

He breathes, slowly, in and out, and then nods. “Aye, love, that he will…”

“Hear that little love,” Emma coos —she _coos—_ eyes shifting down to their hands on her belly. “Your mom and dad love you so much already,”

Killian nods, throat tight, overcome with so many emotions all at once, but still impossibly happy all the same. “And that’s never going to change, Duckling,”

The nickname sticks since that day.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

 

The next morning they stop by her parent’s flat to tell them about the baby. Emma is at least 85% sure David has already done the times of news sharer and told her mom, but for that 15% of _‘just in case he hasn't’_ uncertainty, they pick up donuts and hot cocoa from Granny's and head their way.

Emma’s _uncertainty_ is short lived though, and instead her question is answered as soon as the door to her parent’s place opens. David is at the door while Snow is by the kitchen area. It's not hard at all to read her expression from across the room; her round green eyes _huge_ and the grin on her face impossibly wide.

 _Okay,_ so David isn't exactly capable of keeping a secret from her mom. _Good to know…_

Still, despite Emma’s _very mild_ annoyance at her father for spilling the beans before she — _they_ — could, she doesn't _really_ mind all that much that her mom already knows. After all, the whole point of why they are here right now is just that —to share the news.

In the end, after what appears to be one hundred endless seconds, Emma lifts the box of donuts she’s still holding and meets her mom’s eyes with a sheepish smile. She then chirps a silly, “ _Surprise!”_

And that is all it takes before Snow is marching from behind the kitchen counter purposefully toward them. Killian has the good sense to grab the box of donuts from Emma just in time before Snow very much just collides into her daughter.

Over Emma and Snow’s head, Killian meets David’s eyes and at first, they simply share a look. David looks at Killian kindly but also with that touch of a warning in his eyes. Parenting a child isn't a stroll at the park and the pirate — _former,_ now very much- _reformed,_ pirate, better realizes this now.

Still, he also slightly smiles and nods at Killian, and he takes that in kind, nodding slightly back at David as well.

“It's just donuts you guys,” Emma says then, but Snow doesn't even bother acknowledging her comment, instead hugs that daughter of hers just a little bit tighter, and whispers in her ear an earnest _congratulations._

Emma smiles against her mom’s shoulder and nods. She hears something awfully resembling a teasing laugh coming from Killian but before Emma has a chance to grunt or complain about his mocking, Snow is promptly letting go of her and moving to hug Killian instead. He barely has time to set aside the Donuts and hot cocoas before Snow is wrapping her arms tightly around him.

Now is Emma who's biting her lips trying _really_ hard not to laugh at her mom’s overly emotional display of affection.

Snow’s all too close to tears right now, while Killian just stands there awkwardly patting her back slightly.

Emma goes then to her father and easily lets him hug her as well. They both watch Snow pretty much squish Killian in her tight hug for a few more seconds before at last, she lets go of him.

He lets out an audible gasp once he's finally free and Emma can't stop the laughter that escapes her.

She doesn't get a second to comment though before all eyes are on her. Their stares are expectant so she knows she should be saying something, but other than stare and smile, she's not sure what that something is.

Snow, thankfully, breaks the silence with a chuckle and then says, “So Emma, um, how are you feeling honey?”

Emma frowns although she's not sure why. “I'm great, I'm fine,” she says but their expectant looks don't change. “Right?” She turns to Killian and he smirks. Emma rolls her eyes and turns to her parents once more. “I'm okay,” she sighs, locking eyes with her mom. “I think it's still pretty early —I truly haven’t felt too too awful at all…”

Snow grins and Emma knows she's fighting the urge to hug her again. “We are _very_ happy for you, you know?”

Emma smiles because she doesn't need to use her super power to know her mom’s being 100% truthful. “Thank you,” Emma says softly, her walls lowering. “We are pretty happy about it too, actually,”

Snow’s smile goes wider if possible, while her father looks as though he's about to burst with pride.

 _Saps_.

But then, before Emma can make a comment about how this isn't _that_ big of a deal, she feels Killian intertwining their hands together. He's grinning when she looks up at him and suddenly she feels like she might cry too. She's confused about the tears that start pooling in her eyes but then not just Snow but Charming too step closer wrapping their arms around her.

Killian stays standing to her side, her small hand in his as her parents hug her like there is no tomorrow. It's a little awkward, their positioning that is, and yet Emma can't think of anything she'd trade this moment for.

She finds the few tears that do fall just slightly annoying but at least she has something — _someone_?— to blame those for.

“Do you want to have those donuts?” David asks her a moment later once both him and Snow have pulled from her.

Sniffling, Emma nods her head. She's not even going to try to form words right now, she's just going to walk to that table and stuff her face on a couple of those chocolate donuts they bought.

With Killian still holding her hand, they step across the room to the small kitchen table and they all sit. The cocoas aren't as all that hot anymore but if either mind, they don't say.

Snow asks her questions as Emma eats; easy ones, did she really not know until yesterday, how did she tell Killian, when do they plan to tell Henry… “Probably after we've seen a doctor?” Emma more so asks back, with a mouth half full of chocolate donut.

“Probably a good idea,” Snow nods, reaching out to squeeze one of Emma’s hands on the table. “Any ideas when that'll be?”

Emma's eyes go wide and her immediate response is to turn to Killian as in for backup. He has just taken a sip of hot cocoa and her wide questioning eyes just about make him choke. Emma laughs, reaching up a hand to slap his back gently. “Are you okay?”

Killian clears his throat, tries to smirk as to cover his almost near death experience, but it's in vain, as he still can just barely stop coughing. “‘m fine,” he chokes out and not just Emma, but David and Snow too, laugh at his expenses.

“Anyway,” Emma declares, still absently patting Killian’s back as she turns to her parents. “I don't know, I'll try to get an appointment this week,” Emma tells them, before looking over at Killian. His eyes soften when they meet hers and he nods slightly. Emma looks at her parents once more. “I’m guessing it'll be an early summer baby, but I’m looking forward to know for sure…”

“Of course,” Snow agrees and once more reaches to squeeze Emma’s hand.

Emma regards her mom carefully for a moment, she's happy, that's for sure, but there's something else there she can't quite put her finger on. “You okay mom?”

“Yeah,”

Oh yeah, that was a _yeah_ that doesn't exactly mean _yes_. Emma tilts her head watching her one more time before deciding to let it go...for now.

x

The boys have gone to the station by the time Emma finishes her third (fine, _fourth_ ) donut and is helping her mom pick up the trash from the table. Emma helps putting all the now empty coffee containers in the trash while Snow flattens the empty donuts box and shoves it in the recycling bin in the back.

Emma fixes her with a pointed look when Snow returns.

“What?”

Emma rolls her eyes. “We are alone now, are you going to tell me what's up?”

Snow looks back at her as though she's been caught stealing a cookie from the jar. Her mouth hangs slightly agape as she tries to think what to reply.

Emma looks at her softly and steps closer. “My guess is you’re worried but I can't decide why…”

“Oh Emma,”

“Yeah?” Emma asks simply, she shrugs and pretends she can't see the tears pooling rapidly in her mom’s eyes.

“I'm just so happy for you honey, I swear…”

Emma decides Snow is not lying rather quickly again. She frowns although she allows her mom to take both of her hands into her own. “This is just such a happy thing and the fact that both your dad and I are here for it, _with you,_ for all this, I...I just, it's just really exciting, is all…”

And suddenly Emma does get it. All these years she's known her mom, so many have been the times when sharing a future with _all of them_ present seemed like a pipe dream.

These days Storybrooke is not without trouble and evil doers, but Emma has learned living not only in between crises is important, but living _despite_ them is just as important too.

“It _is_ nice, mom…” Emma sighs before allowing her mom to hug her for like the fifth time this morning.


	5. lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt ;; CS + late night convos about their growing family + a wee touch of misunderstandings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of half-written unfinished stories in my computer are *so so many* right now, so please don't mind me as I purge some of them now while I can't sleep. This actually started as a 'middle of the night morning sickness' prompt, but well, that clearly didn't happen and instead it turned into them talking some things out, mainly how to tell Henry, and all of the mushy feels I can't get away from, it seems :)

 — ღ   —

He’s fresh out of the shower when his eyes land on her. She hasn’t moved much, still lying on her side on their bed, awake yet with her mind a hundred miles away.

Killian gets her though —it’s a _big_ deal, and he too, can’t stop thinking about it.

They share a small, yet meaningful smile before he moves to dress and Emma watches him.

His hair is still wet, sticking to his skull in all odd places making her smile at the sight. He joins her in bed, not especially caring he may wet their pillows. Thankfully, he knows, Emma doesn’t care either right now.

Killian just settles behind her, chin on her shoulder while his arm wraps around her on instinct.

Emma hums and closes her eyes, holding back onto him tightly. She breathes deeply, tries to blank her mind.

_(Fails to blank her mind)_

He can sense her slight frustration, so he slowly starts kissing the bare skin of her shoulder, her neck, and it makes him happy when she smiles easily at his touch.

She tilts her head slightly, shifting to see him. Her smile only grows when she catches the smirk on his face; that glint of joy shinning in his eyes when he looks at her.

_Oh, she loves him…_

He looks at her knowingly. “You need to stop thinking so hard, love…”

Emma smiles at that, but still shakes her head. “No can do…”

Killian’s lips form into a line, but that shine of… _something_ happy doesn’t disappear from his eyes. It warms Emma somehow.

Still… “I can’t stop thinking how I’m going to tell Henry about it all,” she tells him, answering the question he didn’t ask.

Emma knows he wanted to ask it but didn’t, instead choosing to give her her space and not push her to share if she didn’t want to.

She _does_ want to though.

“Ah,” Killin lets out as an answer. Emma can see _something else_ crossing his face as he does however.

She narrows her eyes a bit, eyes steady on his as he looks down and that hand of his, previously running in circles on her hip, stills.

She tries to think for a moment, about what she said, but then he speaks. “How do you suppose the lad is going to take it?”

Emma pushes aside his change of disposition, _for now,_ and instead gives him a shrug in lieu of an answer.

Killian’s cheek shifts to rest on her shoulder fully and he gently drops a few kisses there —face angled away from her.

Emma allows this for a moment, she holds a bit tighter onto the arm he still has wrapped around her, and kisses his bicep softly in return.

Eventually she shifts, wanting to properly see him instead of keeping her back to him. She snuggles against him; Killian easily turning with her and gathering her in his arms without thought. He kisses her mouth….her jaw, her cheeks, her forehead as well. Emma smiles against him, but it’s a soft thing. She knows there’s something he isn’t sharing, but she doesn’t want to push him either.

She settles instead with moving one of her hands up to his face, cupping his cheek. His face dips, as it simply always does when they are close like this, and they kiss fully and properly one more time. His eyes close and so do hers; her fingers shifting to the back of his head, tangling in his still slightly wet hair that once more is getting just a wee bit too long.

Their foreheads touch, she’s still playing with his hair, and his hand is now tentatively shifting to her middle.

Emma’s eyes are closed, but she still _feels_ the hesitation in him when his fingers sprawl _not quite_ over her stomach. She sighs, her eyelids slowly fluttering open.

She looks at him softly, love and _affection_ hitting her at once. “Here,” she mumbles, her free hand, the one not playing with his hair, moving to grab his. She intertwines their fingers, moving their hands so that they are jointly resting over her stomach fully.

His eyes are still closed, but he smiles, and it makes Emma do so as well. “I’m truly looking forward to everything, you know?”

Killian’s eyes open then, he fixes her with a look Emma can’t quite read. It prompts her to elaborate for some reason, “I would barely allow myself to touch my stomach when I was pregnant with Henry —ever,” she stresses. “I avoided it. I didn’t want to even _think_ about it. I—” she trails off, shaking her head before trying again. “This time things are different —this baby’s loved and not going anywhere after it’s born. I’m not letting it out of my sight and everything that’s going to happen these next few months, I…I want it. I’m looking forward to it…”

Killian nods, his thumb running idle circles over her lower belly. He’s been imagining the whole thing himself, most of the times having to shake himself out of the same thoughts that not too long ago felt like utter impossibilities. The reality that this is, in fact, his reality, still hasn’t quite sunk in.

Still, “Henry adores you,” —this right now isn’t about _him_ , is about Emma and the worry in her heart.

Because he understands what she means —how she’s not the least bit troubled about their baby itself, but she’s instead worrying nonstop about her son; about letting him in on this, about his reaction, about hurting _him_ with this all.

“I love my parents too, doesn’t mean it didn’t hit me like a ton of bricks when Neal was born…”

Killian nods at that —he was right there himself when Snow admitted to David — _and them— Gods, to Emma —_ that she longed to have a child with whom she could have everything she missed out on with Emma growing up.

Killian remembers the look on Emma’s face, the pain, the almost soul crushing hurt the realization brought to her. Instinctively his hold on her tightens then. “ _You_ love the little prince, my love…”

This makes her chuckle and she nods at the needless reminder. “It’s true,” Emma agrees, looking at him. “I don’t doubt for a second Henry is going to be a great big brother, I just…”

“—You worry about him mistaking this baby coming into our lives as you replacing him…”

Both of which are neither true nor right, and yet… “Yeah…” Emma breathes out, her eyes casting down to where their hands still rest on her stomach. “I wish sometimes things had been different back then —I wish I’ve held him, _seen him for real_ at least. I sometimes wish it’d been in the cards for me to actually be with him back then…”

Killian knows there’s really nothing he can say that’ll make her feel better about _this_ particular subject, so he just offers a small soft smile, and leans over kissing the tip of her nose. It’s a gesture that almost never fails to make her smile. His scruffy face tickles at her skin just so, and she can’t help the smile that forms in her face.

Killian smiles a little brighter at _her_ smile. “You’re here for him now…”

“Yeah,” Emma says, then sighs. “He’s _too_ damn big these days though —what do you think I have to do to make him slow down, huh?”

Her sudden sunnier disposition causes him to grin —fully. He beams and detangles their hands just so he can cup her face. “Just trust your lad, love. He loves you and I’m certain that even if he’s put out a bit at first about the news, he’ll come around,” he tells her, his words steady and certain. “Just as you did with the little prince…”

Emma smiles at that, nods her head and then shifts her face to the side just enough to drop a kiss to his hand. Killian caresses the apple of her cheek lovingly, once more ducking his head to kiss her lips.

He stares into her eyes adoringly when he pulls back from her.

“Thank you,” Emma says and Killian can’t help beaming.

“Aye,” he nods. “Whenever you tell the lad, allow him time and space to process the news Swan. He’ll understand in his time, and I’m rather certain he’s going to be excited about it…”

Emma chuckles a little at his optimism. “Okay…” she mumbles with a small nod.

“Would you also, uh, assure the lad he’s free to speak to me any time as well, love,” Killian goes and says then. “I understand your reluctance at involving me when telling him the news, but I’d still like for him to know he can come to me any time to discuss this if he feels the need—”

“Wait,” Emma stops him, frowns, and then tries to sit up fixing him with a strange look. “What? What are you talking about? Reluc— excuse me, _what_?”

“Love,” he says, and he sounds tired and Emma very much doesn’t like it.

“No,” she shakes her head, now fully sat up on the bed. She stares at him strongly. “Can you explain to me what you meant,” she tells him, before slightly softer adding, “Please?”

His face hangs and she knows he’s not pleased they are discussing this, but the more time he takes in answering, the more impatient she grows. “Killian,”

He takes a huge intake of breath before looking up at her. “Just now, Swan, you were very clear this is a conversation you wish to have on your own with the lad. I respect your decision very much,” he explains, although Emma is still as confused as ever. He just continues anyway, “Henry is your son, and I understand I am not his father, but regardless of this, I still wish the lad to know that it is my hope his and I’s relationship doesn’t go away because you and I are expecting our own child together now…”

It takes more than a moment for Emma to process his words. She’s not entirely sure she’s following, but she’s sure as hell she needs to fix it. “So, let me get this straight, you think I’m… _reluctant_ to involve you in this because I said _I_ was going to speak with Henry?”

“Well, yes Emma, aye…”

“I…” she sighs, shaking her head. “Killian, this is all… _new_ to me. I don’t —I’m not sure how to do… _this,”_ she says motioning between the two of them. “Would I love for you to be there when _I_ tell Henry about the baby? _Absolutely_ , but…I don’t want you to feel as though you _have_ to, because you don’t…”

“–But I _do_ want to, Emma,”

She frowns a little, confused. “You do?” She asks, and Killian can tell she’s honestly insecure about this.

He deflates and suddenly he’s not all that hurt anymore —not that he ever truly was, he’s mostly just a tad annoyed at himself now. “Love,” he tells her, taking one of her hands into his own. “I care about your lad every bit as much as I do for you —the two of you, you’re my family,” he says, but then pauses, something like a smile crossing his face quickly. “ _Three_ of you, including the babe…”

Emma smiles a little at that too. “I know that…” She tells him because she does know, but Killian can tell she’s still feeling uneasy. “And you know Henry loves you —he does. I guess…I don’t know, I didn’t think—”

“Didn’t think I’d want to be involved?”

Now he’s sounding slightly hurt again and Emma hates it. “No, no, it’s not that!” She curses inwardly when the stupid words to explain herself just won’t form quickly enough. “I just don’t _ever_ want to put you on the spot —I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything,”

“Love?” His voice is much softer now.

Emma looks at him, and slightly nods at him to continue.

“Can we just agree that I’m _always_ going to want to be involved? In any way that concerns you, Henry, or the babe…just…put me on the spot any time you need to, please?”

Emma breathes deeply and nods at him at those words. “Okay,” she says softly, but he’s still looking at her expectantly. “Fine, yes, okay, I will…”

“Aye,” Killian nods, before an actual, honest to God, precious smile makes it to his face. “Thank you, Swan…”

“Yeah,” she breathes out, reaching over for him without thought. Killian holds her in his arms, tightly enough and allows the moment, their words spoken to sink in completely. He feels Emma relaxing little by little until she’s pretty much slumped against him —feeling completely boneless and at ease. It makes him smile. “I love you,” he tells her, pressing a kiss to her hair.

Emma hums, nodding her head slightly against his chest.

Killian presses yet another kiss. “I love _you,_ our baby, your lad so much as well…I love him as much as if he were my own blood, Swan…” He says, his voice soft, and with just a wee bit of hesitation still there. “I just…I love you all…” He promises, knowing Emma’s listening to his heart speaking right now. He smiles sheepishly when Emma tilts her face and looks up at him. His face scrunches a bit, and his hand shoots up to scratch at that spot behind his ear. “I just want you to know that, love…”

She smiles fully, at him. “I love you, too…” Emma promises, completely enamored of his sudden bashfulness. “And I know you love him, I’ve never doubted it, I promise you…I’m just…not used to this still…”

“This?” He asks and now it’s Emma who smiles shyly.

“Yes, this,” she tells him. “Love like this,” she adds, and Killian gets a little more now what she’s saying. He beams at her though —feeling smug and happy all at once. Emma chuckles.

“You should be used to it, Emma…it’s not going anywhere, love…”

And for whatever reason her heart starts racing and she feels her belly making a flip. “This kid’s lucky,” she says suddenly, and it takes Killian a moment to register she’s talking about their child — _their_ _kid._

_“_ Aye?”

“Mmhmm,” she nods at him. “He’ll know love _like this,_ from the very start. I’d say that makes it a pretty lucky baby, don’t you think?”

He doesn’t need to think about it —he knows it. “Aye, love…” he agrees easily. “Lucky indeed…”


	6. goodnight little love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> now this is the actual 'late nite convos + morning sickness in the middle of the night' prompt I meant to finish a g e s ago! cs baby feels are running high tonight, so yeah, here's this. No plot whatsoever, I don't think, I'm just a sucker for middle of the night conversations it seems :)

— ღ   — 

It’s definitely not as bad as it was with Henry, not at all. Emma knows she should consider herself lucky, only being sick once a day at most, but still… by week 14, Emma’s already  _done_  with some of it. She’s tired of being tired  _all_  the freaking time. She’s bloated more often than not, and the nausea; the nausea is by far the worst.

Aside for her one, 3am long-standing appointment with the porcelain bowl every night, Emma’s been mostly ‘ _blessed’_  with just nausea day-round and not vomit. Which she figures makes her lucky; it could be worse,  _she_ knows how much worse it could be, puking at the drop of hat —she lived it before, so  _she knows,_ but despite the lack of retching, her stomach  _does_  churn 24/7 and she’s sick of it.

She’s already missed more days at work in the last month than she has in her whole time in Storybrooke all together. She just doesn’t feel  _right._ She’s dizzy and queasy so often, that she finds at least sleeping she’s unaware of the sickness. And it’s not as if she’s not tired enough to justify all the naps – _she is_.

Killian is great about the whole thing; he’s awesome at allowing her to moan and complain as much as she wants without making her feel whiny or worse, weak. He’s great. Her parents are being completely amazing as well, as is her son and pretty much everyone who knows —which aren’t that many yet, but she figures in time she won’t even have to announce it, they’ll just be able to  _tell_.

Which worries her too, because showing does mean everybody knowing about the baby, and that’s scary. It’s also exciting though. Showing after all does mean the baby is growing, and she wants that. She wants this tiny human of hers to grown healthy so that she and Killian can meet it soon.

She is looking forward to it. It has surprised her how genuinely excited she is about it, but she is; she can’t wait for it to be born, to see it and hold it —to be there when Killian holds it for the first time.

If anything, Emma’s completely sure what an incredible dad he’s going to be —in so many ways, he already is. He doesn’t talk to  _it yet_ , but Emma knows it’s not for lack of wanting. She catches him lost in thought more often than not and it’s the baby he’s thinking about. He asks her questions all the time, what does she need, has she taken her vitamins yet, does she think the room they chose for the baby is too small or too big, should they start buying it’s clothes and toys yet. Emma’s favorite thus far, does she think the baby will enjoy the water like he does? It melts her heart, right to the core it does, and the fact that at 3 am every night he wakes up with her, just for the sake of  _being with her,_ and with the excuse that he doesn’t need his sleep as much, even when  _he so totally does,_ doesn’t hurt too much.

Is this why, when her head lifts from the  _very_ disgusting toilet bowl, and the first thing she sees in front of her is a washcloth wet to warm perfection, Emma forces herself  to throw a rather appreciative smile Killian’s way.

The guy is a godsend, there’s no question about that.

Never mind he’s been  _literally_  sent to her by a  _god._

Did she mention at nighttime he now keeps a fluffy blanket by the side of the toilet? All so that she doesn’t have to sit on the cold tiles while upchucking her cookies? Yeah, her guy is pretty great, all right.

_“_ Thank you,” Emma tells him simply, grabbing the washcloth from him.

Killian nods, and scoots over to the bathroom sink to grab something else.

Perfectly timed as Emma finishes wiping at her mouth and face, he hands her a glass full of fizzy ginger ale. Emma takes it gladly, moaning a little as she immediately lifts the glass to her lips and takes a generous sip.

So maybe she should just suck this up and be grateful for everything she has — _Killian,_ at the top of that list right now. God knows she’d take all the nausea in the world if it means they’ll have a healthy baby in a few months and Emma gets to keep its Daddy with her through the whole thing and then some.

Eventually, after taking some more sips, and feeling her stomach settle slightly, Emma sits back and breathes out deeply. Killian sits by her, his eyes on her as he tries to relax as well, but she knows he won’t completely as long as they are still in the bathroom. Instead he’ll be up in seconds if she so happens to need  _anything_.

Emma loves him.

“I’m fine,” she tells him then for his sake. Killian hasn’t asked the question, he never does really; he always chooses to read her and simply wait until she tells him when the worst of the sickness has passed.

Which thankfully now has, she  _thinks._

Killian nods at her, a tender, soft smile on his face. “Would you like to go back to bed then?”

Emma shakes her head quickly at that, and then smiles guiltily at the face he gives her. Fine, fine, so maybe she isn’t feeling  _completely_ fine  _yet_.

_Busted_. “Give me just a few more minutes, kay?”

“Absolutely,” he tells her. Killian sighs and leans back against the cool wall behind them. Emma eyes him for all of ten seconds before scooting closer to him. He doesn’t think about it before gathering her in his arms, tenderly pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Emma breathes him in deeply, partly because his smell is one of the few things these days that doesn’t make her feel sick, and partly too because even after all this time, Killian, being this close to him, is still one of those things that simply make her feel secure and steady.

She needs this right now, the vivid reminder that everything’s well and she’s safe.

When Emma looks up at him, his chin shifts slightly from the top of her head, and he hums. His eyes are closed, while his arms are loosely holding her —in case she needs to bolt back to the toilet, he knows. Emma knows this is the part of the night they usually talk —or try to anyway. He’ll ask her a silly question requesting whatever story she’s willing to share, or he’ll simply start talking, tell  _her_ a tale or two from his many years of voyages.

“Love…”

There he is. “Hum?” Emma replies, still looking up at him.

Killian keeps his eyes shut for another moment, his breathing steady as well as his hold on her. ““How are you feeling?”

Her eyebrows knit, and her expression goes confused at that question. “I just sai–”

“No, I,” he trails off, shaking his head. “I don’t mean—” he tries again, his eyes opening and meeting hers now. “How are  _you_ feeling?”

Ah.

For some reason Emma does get now what he’s trying to ask. “As in not in general,  _physically_ , but…about this all, as in the kid?”

“Aye,” he nods, then dares a small smile. “As in the small, very  _very_  small kid. The one currently living inside you,” he explains making her smile.

Emma still just shrugs at the question. “You’ve been talking to my mom about me, haven’t you?” she asks, and surprisingly enough he shakes his head. “No?”

Again he shakes his head in reply, but then smirks just so and Emma chuckles. “Dad then?”

“Aye,” Killian says.

“When?”

“Ah, here and there…” he tells her, and she knows she isn’t getting more from him on that. “Point being, it’s gotten me thinking…about you, us, the babe. I’d like to know you’re well love. Not just…you know, physically well, but… _well_ …”

Emma takes a moment, a rather long one just looking at him. She thinks about the last few days, the last month or so since they’ve known about their baby….she thinks about all the things that are different and all the things that aren’t.

She thinks about Killian.

She thinks about Henry and her parents and her family.

She thinks about her old self —the one pregnant and in jail, and…alone.

Her eyes fall to her lap and she—

“You’ve mentioned not remembering pregnancy being this bad a few times now…I’ve heard you love; I just haven’t been sure what to tell you back…”

Emma tilts her head up toward him. “Did I really say that?” She asks him instead of replying to his first question yet.

She can’t exactly place when she might have said that, but she figures it comes to show her overly tired nauseated self is also a liar on top of everything else.

This pregnancy is in no way worse than hers with Henry was —physically or any other way, really, but there’s no way Killian knows any of this.

He only knows what she says when she’s tired and feeling sulky and just oh so fed up with the nausea.

Emma hasn’t talked to him much about her first pregnancy —at all actually. She just doesn’t like to go there. She feels guilty —guilty because she gave up her son and she isn’t giving up this baby.

She’d rather never have to think about how it was to be pregnant back then but…

“Aye love,” Killian replies then, her thoughts interrupted. “More than a couple of times now…” He says, and Emma purses her lips.

“You know,” she begins, relaxing a little into his embrace. “It’s not true,” she tells him, and Killian looks at her with surprised wide eyes. “It’s…my pregnancy with Henry was…”

“What?” Killian prompts, but his tone is soft and careful.

While anyone else pushing her to talk would put her off, Killian’s soft, innocent questioning does encourage her to share this with him. She swallows at the lump that has formed in her throat and gives a small shrug. “It was  _rough_ ,” to put it mildly. “It was more than that, actually. It was…well, it was… _hell_ …”

His jaw clenches and his eyes shift from hers for a beat.

Emma gets it, simply imagining  _any_ of the painful moments he’s gone through in his life are enough to make her insides hurt. She can imagine is the same way for him and some of the painful parts of her past.

After a moment, she simply shrugs at him —it is what it is, after all.

Killian nods back, slowly. “Do you remember much?”

Emma thinks about it —she wants to emphatically nod right then. Tell him a big fat  _yes._ That of course she remembers. How being pregnant, heartbroken  _and_ locked up isn’t exactly something she can just forget so easily.

But…

There  _is_  a  _but_. “I remember everything, but…” There isn’t a prompt to continue this time from Killian, but Emma can almost hear it all the same by the way his eyes lock with hers. “It’s a weird thing —I don’t care about it, I’d do it all again,” she tells him honestly. “In a heartbeat I’d go through it all again because in the end…well, in the end it gave me my son, and while I wasn’t there from the start, he’s my kid and I wouldn’t trade that for the world…”

Killian takes in her words, nods slowly at her. He understands.

“This time around is…you know, tough too. The nausea  _is_  getting the best of me these days, and that’s what you hear, but it isn’t…it is not particularly bad, I promise you,” as she says this Emma actually goes and tries for a smile in Killian’s direction.

He smiles back at her and reaches up his good hand to cup her face.

“I’m good,” Emma promises. “I swear I am.” She adds, and at this, he nods. “And just as I went and would go again through hell for Henry,” she pauses thinking for a tiny moment before adding, “For  _you_ ,” she says, and smirks despite the flash of heartache that crosses Killian’s face. It’s the truth though. “I’d go through just about  _anything —everything_ for this kid as well. A little bit of nausea and the whole lot of bitching that you hear, is nothing, Killian. I can take it, okay? For the kid, I can take everything this pregnancy brings…”

And suddenly she feels like she might cry so she shifts her eyes away from his.

She’s not usually this clear with words but this particular subject she wants to put out in the open and make sure they stay on the same page.

It doesn’t take away the fact that it takes a lot from her to go to all these emotional places and now all she wants is curl up in a ball and not think about it for the rest of the night…

Probably the rest of the month, honestly.

“Emma,”

She refuses to look up at him at first; she’s still struggling a bit to reel back in her emotions.

“Emma, love,” and of course as he says this he’s also shifting her face up with his hand. His hand on her jaw is soft and tender though, his eyes looking into her with love and affection that make Emma’s heart squeeze inside her chest.

She nods at him to talk then, her eyes meeting his with what she hopes is the same level of affection she sees in his. “You’re amazing love,” he tells her as if that is the simplest, yet most important fact in this world.

It makes her blush a bit, gives her that urge to look down she has to fight something fierce.

He’s smiling at her though, thumb running lovingly over the apple of her cheek as he looks into her eyes as if she’s the whole damn world to him.

“Every day you blow me away, your strength, your love for this baby, for the lad…me…” he says, a silly, sort of coy expressing crossing his face. “You’re my all, Emma Swan, and I just…it  _is_  my hope I can help make these few months if only a little bit easier….” he tells her. “Not because I don’t think you can take anything under the sun, but because I don’t want you to have to. I want you to lean on me and I want to be here and share on everything with you, all right?”

A tiny chuckle escapes her, it’s watery, but she still refuses to let those pesky tears fall from her eyes right now.

Instead, she nods at him. “All right,” she agrees simply and he beams —he positively beams at her and before Emma can produce another single thought or word, he’s leaning in to kiss her and the world around her effectively disappears.

His lips are warm, as they always — _always—_ are, and suddenly she’s warm too —not just physically, although her cheeks certainly do feel warm and that pool of warmth in her belly demanding more sure is too, but she mostly feels inwardly warm —her heart. She feels her love for him tenfold when he’s this close —when his lips brush hers and his hand caresses her as if she’s the most delicate being he’s ever touched.

Her love for him is warm and great and…perfect in all their imperfect ways and Emma Swan sure as hell wouldn’t want it any other way.

  — ღ   —

Eventually she sighs —he’s pulled back slightly, not much really, just enough so that their noses are still brushing and his forehead is resting against hers. “We’re getting good at this, aren’t we now?” She hears him say then.

Reluctantly she opens her eyes and looks upward into his. “Huh?”

“Feelings,” he says, his smirk stupidly big and playful.

Emma groans, in absolute jest and slaps his chest.

“Sharing them and all I mean, love…”

She rolls her eyes although she does know and deep down she does agree —time together has definitely given them the ability to just  _talk_ about how they are feeling most times. They aren’t pros at it yet —by any means, it still takes much prompting and patience some days, but regardless they are getting there and that’s a good thing.

“Not lying, Swan…”

She looks at him, fights the smile that wants to form, but still nods. “Nah you’re not,” she tells him simply before just melting once more into him. Killian holds her tight to him, he’s fairly certain the worst of her sickness has now truly passed so he feels confident holding her to him is all right once more.

He kisses her hair, strokes her back, her belly for a little while too. He feels her breathing shifting slowly —feels her melting into him slowly more and more, feels her heart beating against him and peace washes over him as it always does during this portion of their nights.

He sighs, giving her temple one strong kiss again and stroking her face slightly with the pads of his fingers.

“Let’s go to bed now, love…”

She hums in response, sleep almost having taken her completely already.

Killian’s up from the floor slowly and carefully helps Emma every step of the way. She’s leaning into him almost completely, giving small steps every time he gives one. Her eyes stay closed, as they always do this time of the night, and slowly but surely, they make it back into their bedroom.

He helps her into her side of the bed, and Emma waits patiently until he climbs next to her and snuggles into his side one more time.

She’s asleep within minutes, Killian can tell but it takes him just a bit longer to do the same. It’s such a huge thing they are doing —growing their family in every sense there is. He’s lucky he thinks, to have Emma and their family and everything that they are building.

One thing he knows, and that’s how he’ll do anything for them —all of them— his family.

“Night love,” he whispers, pressing a feather like kiss to Emma’s cheek. His hand moves then and he sets it flat on her belly, his thumb stroking the bit of skin that’s showing. “Night to you too little love…”


	7. Chapter 7

It’s a weird thing for Snow to walk into the Sheriff’s department that morning. She finds Emma and Killian standing by the farthest corner; she’s curled into him and Killian is talking softly as far as Snow can tell.

He’s not being nearly loud enough for her to hear him, but she can distinguish their whispers though, and after a moment, she thinks she hears Emma sniffling. She begins to worry at that, she can’t help it; Emma’s all grown up, but she’s still her daughter, and she crying is never something she can take lightly.

Eventually, she clears her throat. Emma doesn’t turn, but Killian’s eyes lift to find her by the doorway. Awkwardly she waves as she steps inward. “Is everything okay?”

Killian looks down at Emma pressed against his chest –she breathes deeply, wiping at her eyes and sniffling some more before ever so slightly nodding her head. Killian smiles anyway and nods before meeting Snow’s eyes again. “She’s all right, your majesty,” he assures her with a soft smile.

— ღ   —

 “What was that about?”

Emma’s not shocked; an interrogation was due after that little display of emotions this morning. She still sighs because honestly, she’s not even sure herself what this morning was all about. She just knows she’s ended up crying far too often these last couple of weeks for her taste. “He said the baby is the size of a sweet potato.”

Snow frowns at that. “Okay,” she says, thrown off. “That doesn’t sound _too_ offensive, was it?”

“No it’s not, of course it’s not,” Emma tells her, exasperated a little. “But it’s the sentiment behind it. And it’s stupid that I ended up crying about it, but he’s all — _casual_ about it, as if him keeping track of just how big the baby is isn’t completely worth me crying over.”

Snow looks like she’s trying too hard to understand what she’s saying. “But you just said—”

“That it’s silly and stupid? It _is_ silly and stupid!” Emma agrees. “That doesn’t mean I can help it though…”

Snow smiles at her at that. “It’s going to be fine honey,” she tells her soothingly. She reaches for Emma’s hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “The baby is the size of a sweet potato then?”

Emma shrugs. “That’s what he said…”

“But…?”

“You really want to know?”

Snow simply nods.

“He didn’t even know what a sweet potato was!” Emma says then with a chuckle.

It’s an overly watery thing and for whatever goddamned reason, she knows she’ll start crying again if she lets herself think too much about her conversation earlier with Killian.

Then again, maybe what she needs is to vent. “He came in here, all serious and matter of fact, and starts telling me the measurements of the baby, which supposedly are those of an average sweet potato as he told me,” Emma says. “It was all fun and games, but then he looks at me and goes, _which ones are the sweet potatoes again, love?”_ She mimics, trying her very best impression of him. She fails, but she can’t quite stop now. “After that whole speech he gave me with _exact_ measurements and all, he tells me he has no idea what a silly sweet potato is?! Can you blame me for the crying?”

“I guess not.”

Emma’s on a roll, she shakes her head, and carries on. “I told him he eats sweet potatoes at Granny’s at least once a week, but the fool didn’t believe me. You know what he told me? All smug he told me he would know if he had eaten such a thing. I insisted, but he did too, until I asked him what was the name of those orange fries he has with his burgers all the time at Granny’s?”

“What did he say?”

“ _YAMS_!” Emma almost shouts. “I wanted to strangle him when he said that!”

Snow waits a beat, watching her, but then softly asks, “Aren’t those different things, though?”

“MOM!”

“Aren’t they?”

“I don’t know! I guess they are, but they taste the same to me! And anyway, it doesn’t matter; I call them sweet potatoes okay?”

“Okay, sweetie.”

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“I’m not crazy,” Emma insists, but Snow makes a face. “Fine, I’m being a _little_ crazy, but you know what I mean, right? He’s just…I don’t know, Killian has just been really sweet about this all… _too sweet_.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No,” she says, but she’s not being completely honest. “At least it shouldn’t be.”

“What is it that bothers you?”

“Nothing _bothers_ me,” Emma promises. “It’s just…it’s _hard —_ I’m not used to feeling this way, so—“

“Not in control?”

Emma’s face turns uneasy at that. “I guess?” She says. “It’s _my_ body and yet half the time I have no idea what’s going on with it these days. I’m not joking when I say he probably knows what’s going on inside me way better than I do…I….I’m not sure how to deal with that…”

Snow’s look is that of complete sympathy, which Emma finds she doesn’t completely hate.

Her mom squeezes her hand tight and for a little while there, she doesn’t speak, and Emma appreciates the silence.

She has a shit load of work to get done but she’s not quite in the mood for any of it right now anyway.

“When you were pregnant with Henry…”

Emma meets her eyes, but shakes her head. “I had _no idea_ what I was doing.” She confesses honestly. “I knew I was pregnant, I knew I was getting bigger, but all I wanted was to ignore it was even happening.”

Another tight squeeze to her hand.

Emma smiles, in spite of everything and the especially horrible memories in her head right now.

“I don’t want to ignore it this time,” she tells Snow. “I _do_ want to know how much it measures or that it looks like a sweet potato or a mango or a freaking balloon. I _want_ all that, I’m just…”

“You’re scared.”

“Yeah,” Emma nods, looking down. “I think that…what if something happens, you know? Killian, he…he’ll be _devastated_.”

“Emma, you c—”

“I can’t think like this?” Emma interrupts, her eyes widening. “I know I shouldn’t. Trust me, I _know._ I still can’t help it.” She confesses. “He’s so damn excited; he talks about it all the time, he talks _to it_ all the time. He’s…” She trails off, taking her hand back from Snow’s hold and instead crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m afraid about what it’ll do to him if something were to go wrong…what it’ll do to _us…_ ”

“You want to hear what I think?”

“That I shouldn’t worry?”

Snow rolls her eyes. “You’ve made it clear you can’t help it and I _get that._ ” She replies, and Emma has to give her that one and nod for her to continue. “What I was going to say was… _try_ to be present. Try to enjoy your pregnancy _right now. Try_ to picture the good things every time your brain goes for the dark stuff.” She says. “Your baby is only going to be the size of a sweet potato for _one week_ Emma, you have to enjoy it.”

It makes her laugh. Whatever argument she was thinking, dies before she can speak it, and she just laughs. “It will be the size of an heirloom tomato next week, actually.” Emma says then, remembering what Killian said earlier. “Or you know, a large Mango. That’s what Killian told me.”

“Does he _know_ what a Mango is?”

Emma makes a face at that. “Actually no, I don’t think so.” She says. “But maybe I should magic one up for him; I don’t think we get any around here till late Spring at least.”

“You’re eighteen….nineteen weeks now?”

“Eighteen,” Emma answers. “And five days, so yeah, pretty much an heirloom tomato already I guess.”

Snow chuckles, tilting her head, trying to get a peek of Emma’s stomach behind her desk.

Emma sighs, she’s truly showing now, and it seems there’s _nothing_ she can wear now without flaunting the baby bump.

_God —she has a baby bump._

Maybe it’s time she embraces it at last though. Maybe her mom is right and she should just enjoy this pregnancy as it is.

The fact that she has the most doting and attentive husband on earth should only be a bonus, not a concern.

“You know in the mornings, he, Hook, he does this thing, he stays in bed with me forever after we wake up. The baby, I don’t know, we feel it _a lot_ in the mornings. I have been feeling it for a few weeks, but we can _both_ actually feel it _and_ see it _in the mornings_. I didn’t feel Henry until much later, but this kid, he sticks out in the mornings, _always_. If I move too quickly, or heaven forbid, have to get up to pee, he goes back swimming and we can’t see it. But if I’m still long enough, we’ll see my belly get this weird, extra sweet, lopsided shape thing. It’s pretty cute actually, and the size of a sweet potato and all, we see it and we feel it, and every morning it amazes me how much _Killian_ loves this baby already. I would have never thought he’d be _this_ in love with this child already. We don’t even know him or her, but…he does, he loves it already so much. It’s…very different this time around.”

Snow’s smile is soft, but knowing —as though it doesn’t shock her at all to hear the kind of father Killian already is to their child.

It makes Emma almost beam. It brings so much warmth to her heart when people see Killian and his good heart the same way she does.

“Neal, he didn’t even know you were pregnant, right?”

“No.” Emma’s reply is curt. The smile and overall light disposition she had before vanishing immediately at that question.

Emma has forgiven Neal; that’s not the problem, or a question, but the fact that it still hurts is a different story.

“You were already in jail when you found out about Henry, right?”

“Yep.”

“You don’t want to talk about this, clearly.”

“No, I mean, I found out I was pregnant in jail, after Neal had already left.”

“Why did he?” She asks and Emma can’t quite believe they’ve never had this conversation before.

“Pinocchio told him,” Emma says, but can’t stop herself from sounding annoyed. “I had to fulfill my destiny of being the savior of course. I was apparently off track and Neal the bigger person he was, set me up for a crime and I ended up in jail back in track to fulfill whatever prophecy August told him about me.”

“What?” Snow honestly sounds shocked and it _shocks_ Emma to realize they are having this conversation _now._ What happen with living in the present and all that shit?

“He set you up?”

“Oh mom,” Emma sighs. “It was a long time ago, It–it doesn’t matter.”

“You can tell me,” Snow insists and Emma knows she’s not going to let it go. “You were in prison because of _him?”_

“Mom.”

“Emma.”

“I was _seventeen_ years old, less than two lousy years older than Henry is now. I was by all means still _a kid_ when I met Neal, I didn’t…I clearly wasn’t thinking right back then. We met when I tried to steal the bug from him—”

“Your yellow car?”

“That’s the one,” Emma confirms. “I broke in the car; Neal was sleeping in the back. That’s how we met. The car wasn’t exactly his, he’s stolen it before me, and so now there I was, having stolen an already stolen car.”

“My God, Emma.”

“It wasn’t all bad, we —I thought I loved him, okay? We got by somehow, we stole from little convenience stores, slept in the bug, or crappy motels at times too, we…we had decided to settle in Tallahassee. It, well, it obviously never happened, he took off, I went to jail, had Henry, gave him away…you know the story.”

Even after all this time she can’t quite ignore the heartache that it brings her to remember how it was to give him away when he was born.

“You wanna know something?”

“Um?” Her mom is looking at her with wide, serious green eyes. Emma’s almost scared to hear it, but she still nods. “Yeah, what?”

“If he were here, if I’d know any of this–”

“What?”

“I’d punch him.” Snow says then, with all the seriousness in the world.

It makes Emma grin. Who knew _that_ was exactly what she needed to hear today? “Yeah, well, for a _very_ long time I dreamed about doing the same too,” she adds, grinning playfully. “It doesn’t matter anymore, though. I swear every little good thing that happens with this pregnancy, kind of replaces a bad memory I have of when I was pregnant before.” She tells her. “Who knows, perhaps _this_ was meant to happen as well, huh?”

“I’m sure it was,” Snow says, and Emma knows she really means it. She gets a bit of a mischievous glint in her eyes then though, making Emma narrow her eyes.

“What? What is it?”

“Do you want a girl or a boy?”

She chuckles —that’s the question she gets from just about _everyone_ in Storybrooke. They aren’t going to find out whether the baby is a boy or a girl so everybody _has_ had to ask her what she _wants._ “I don’t know, honestly.” Her answer is truly always the same.

“Killian?”

“Um,” she hums, thinking about it. She’ll be lying if she doesn’t admit she’s asked _him_ the same question a couple dozen times at least as well. In her defense, she’s been having trouble sleeping these last few weeks and her husband is a trooper and talks with her through her insomnia.

“He says it doesn’t matter to him, _a lass or a lad won’t matter to me,_ he says,” Emma again tries to mimic his accent —it doesn’t quite work, but Snow still smiles at her. “I think he actually means it, he’s just happy the babe’s healthy so far.”

“That’s what is important.”

“Yeah,” Emma agrees, giving the little bump a stroke. “I’ll feel bad for our kid if she’s a girl though. He, _God,_ he’s going to be one of those crazy overprotective Dads. I know it. It’s going to be tough on a little girl.”

“And fun?”

“Yeah that too,” Emma agrees with a guilty smile. “It’ll be nice to have a little boy too though; I never got to enjoy Henry being little and sweet and messy, so really, either would be nice.”

“You have a guess, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Are you going to tell?”

“Absolutely not.” Emma replies resolutely, making Snow laugh. “I do want it to be a surprise when _it_ is born, so we’ll see.”

“You seem happy honey,” Snow says then as if that was just a fact. Emma just watches her. “I’m happy about that. In spite of everything, you more than anyone deserve all the happiness you can get.”

For a second there she thinks about brushing off the compliment, but then she thinks better of it. “Thank you, mom.”

“Of course,” Snow says, smiling brightly. “We love you, Emma.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one with them breaking into Gold's shop *shrugs*

— ღ   —

It’s a bit of a sudden thing when Emma comes home that evening and pretty much tells him they are breaking into Gold’s shop.

Killian’s in, she really doesn’t have to ask him twice to do it.

She really doesn’t have to ask him twice to do just about _anything_ to be quite honest, but he’s still curious as to what got into her. “Um, all right,” he says slowly. “May I ask why we are breaking into his shop?”

Emma grins at him, a quick, sly little thing as she moves around the room gathering a seeming random assortment of things as she goes.

She doesn’t stop moving as she replies. “I need my stuff back.”

Her answer however does very little to help Killian with his confusion. “Your stuff?”

“Mmhm,” Emma nods, looking up at him for a moment. “My baby things,” she adds, before rummaging a drawer for a flashlight. She grins to herself when she finds it and proceeds to quickly shove it in her purse. She turns to Killian again then. “I want to get them back,” she says. “I want our baby to have them.”

Realization hits him, and slowly his face softens and he nods at her, a tiny knowing smile of his own in his face.

Emma grins back at him, clearly pleased to see he understands.

Still, “breaking in though, love?”

She giggles, nodding at him excitedly. “Yes! I’m also gonna ask my mom to come with us, by the way…”

Killian doesn’t even have to ask the next question; he just looks at her curiously from his place on the couch.

Emma rolls her eyes. “Why?” She asks him, definitely flabbergast he didn’t figure out on his own. “Killian, I _don’t know_ how many of my baby things are in his shop. Mom will know, and I just –you know, I want _everything_.”

Killian nods, slowly, smiling at her knowingly once more. He stands then, moving to her side, his arms going around her instinctively. He holds her close, smiling as Emma relaxes against him without thought. He rests his chin on her shoulder, brushing her hair back and kissing the soft, bare skin of her neck once. “I’m not his biggest fan, as you know, but…how about just asking the Crocodile, love?”

Emma shifts in his arms to meet his eyes. “Nope,” she replies, completely resolute. “We are _definitely_ breaking in.”

Killian lets out a low chuckle. “As you wish, my love…”

— ღ   —

As it turns out, breaking into the Crocodile’s shop isn’t exactly _hard._ Not to Emma, anyway. His wife, as Killian keeps learning daily, is bloody brilliant in just about every sense.

It’s almost too easy (or at least, _she_ makes it seem too easy) how they break in. It takes Emma a minute tops to work the locks and let them in. She beams at both Killian and her mom as they walk into the shop as though they own it.

Killian chuckles, shaking his head ever so slightly as he walks in front of Emma. He catches her eyes in passing, and in that very moment, seeing that flicker of _happiness_ in her eyes, Killian decides breaking in is more than worth it. That look in her eyes is worth all the gold on the planet, he’s sure.

“Okay Emma, now what?”

Emma makes a face at her mom; she closes the door after them, going into enough trouble to lock it behind her and all. She turns to her mother after a moment, forehead wrinkling in concentration. “I’d say we divide and conquer?”

Snow looks far from convinced. Killian chuckles.

“Hey now,” Emma turns to him, her eyes stay soft and playful. “If you have something useful to say, please do, if not…” She lets her sentence trail off, smirking. “Keep it to yourself.”

Killian chuckles, using his hook to scratch his ear. “How about, I for one haven’t a clue which baby things are yours in this shop, love?”

Emma’s forehead wrinkles at that question. “Huh,” she says thoughtfully. “I guess I could have left you at home, huh?”

Killian groans making a face at that. He touches his heart feigning hurt. “Oy, ‘ow’s that fair, love?”

Emma chuckles, moving to him and wrapping her arms around him. She chins up, kissing his lips softly, before just smiling at him. “I tease because I love, you know this.”

“Mmhm” he says, making a face again.

She chuckles, but doesn’t pay him much mind beyond that. She lets go, moving around the place for a moment. "Let's just comb the place for anything that could belong to a baby, okay?” She says, before turning to Killian alone and adding. “Ask mom to confirm if it’s mine or not and then keep going, sounds good?”

“Aye,” he replies simply.

Emma turns to her mom. Snow nods. “Sounds good to me too.”

“Great, let’s get to it, then…”

— ღ   —

It takes them longer than Emma would have expected to go through the place —it doesn’t help that Gold keeps far too many infant objects in his shop.

They do recover more than their fair share of special trinkets from her old nursery though. It’s especially moving to hear her mom retell the stories from back then. Emma didn’t anticipate this part. She didn’t account for how emotional it would be to have her mom relieve her own pregnancy while delicately holding onto a tiny stuffed teddy bear or a delicate glass ornament.

It’s not a particularly bad experience. In any way, actually.

It’s just a little taxing, never mind she’s emotional enough as it is these days, that hearing her mom’s longing and regret on missing so much of her babyhood doesn’t help.

Still, they do make it through most of the shop, and recover more things than Emma would have thought they would.

Snow’s now doing a second pass through the things behind the main counter while Killian and Emma work in the back.

It’s a few minutes later, they are giggling at something so absurdly resembling an oversized dildo when Snow calls Emma to the front.

She rolls her eyes, still smiling though, and just tells him to make sure they don’t miss anything before she gets up and walks to the front.

Her mom is quiet, and it makes Emma worry a little. “Did you find anything else?”

“Mm, Emma.”

“What?”

“I—“ Snow gives up trying to explain, instead she just gestures Emma to come join her behind the counter.

Emma does although she’s still confused. She has a question forming already when she then _sees_ what her mom’s pointing at.

“Oh.”

“I don’t know if that’s—“

“It is, it’s his,” Emma says, somberly, her eyes fixed on that big glass container hidden under the counter. She twists her lips, _thinking._ She looks up at her mom eventually. “I should talk to him.”

“Yeah,” Snow seems to agree immediately without Emma having to go into much more detail. “I’ll take some of the things with me; drop them off at your place on my way home?”

“Sure yeah, that’ll help.” Emma replies, smiling at her softly. “Thank you, mom.”

Snow nods, reaching for Emma’s arm and giving it a firm squeeze. “Call me later when you two are home.”

“I will.”

— ღ   —

 “Everything okay, love?”

“Mmhm,” Emma mumbles back even though he’s going to know she’s lying.

 “You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” Emma lies.

He frowns. “Did your mother find—“

“I have something to show you,” Emma interrupts, not knowing how else to do this.

Killian simply stands and nods at her. “All right, lead the way, love.”

— ღ   —

He’s completely quiet once he sees _it._

Emma’s not sure what to say so she doesn’t say anything. She waits as he inspects the glass container, eyes fixed and unmoving.

She thinks she could do it —she hasn’t been exactly practicing her magic much as of late, but she’s pretty sure she could figure out a way to reattach his hand.

It’s the first thought that came to mind when she saw it earlier.

She could do this for him.

She doesn’t know if he’ll want her to do it though.

The last time he had his hand —

“I didn’t think the crocodile still kept it here.”

Emma’s thoughts are interrupted and instead her attention shifts 100% to Killian. He looks so torn as he inspects his hand and it breaks her heart.

“I didn’t,” he sighs, making himself look away at last. “I didn’t _know.”_

Emma steps closer to him, forgetting all about personal space and instead taking his hand _and_ hook into her own. “You can make a choice, you know?” She asks him softly, searching for his eyes. “You obviously don’t need it,” she tells him playfully, even allowing a little chuckle to escape her. He looks at her oddly, but she just smiles at him, her hand touching to cool arch of his hook. “You don’t, and you know it.” She insists playfully, letting go of his hand and instead holding onto the hook with both of hers.

He’s still not smiling, but at least he’s meeting her eyes now. She lifts up the hook so it’s between them, just below eye level. “You do so much with this thing; you _love_ this thing, don’t you?”

He doesn’t reply, but Emma seems a flash of something tiny but playful cross his eyes. “ _I love_ this thing,” she adds then because she can. She sees the surprise in his eyes, it’s gone quickly, but she couldn’t miss it. “It’s a part of you, Killian; of course I love it…”

He nods solemnly at that one, his hand coming to rest at her hip, bringing her closer to him still. Emma looks up at him softly. “That hand is part of you as well though, so if you wante—”

“It _was_ a part of me, love. It hasn’t been for quite some time now.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “Besides, the kind of man I was back then, well…”

Emma has to resist the urge to roll her eyes —potato, potahto. “Killian,” she calls, and he meets her eyes at once. “A damn hand does not define who you are. _You_ do that, and this,” she says, gesturing to the glass jar with her hand. “This is something _you_ get to decide. You don’t want it, that’s wonderful, you don’t need it anyway, but if you _do_ want it, if there’s a part of you that still wants to ditch the hook and, you know, have this bit of you back, then I think you should have that.”

He considers her words thoroughly and it isn’t hard to tell how torn and contradictory his thoughts may be at the moment.

“What about…” He mumbles, shaking his head before he can finish the thought.

“What?”

Killian looks up at her and the unease in his eyes almost breaks Emma’s heart. “You know, the babe, Emma.”

She frowns at first, but then just shakes her head, smiling at him easily. “Oh, don’t do it for the kid, Killian. You can change a dirty diaper, hook and all.”

He smiles too, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Again, she softens, reaching up for his face now, cupping his cheeks, and looking properly into those infuriatingly beautiful blue eyes of his. “Your kid is going to _adore you —_ it won’t matter if you have your hand or your hook. They’ll probably think the hook is cooler, but hey, it’s up to you. Whatever you want.”

He laughs a little and Emma takes it as a win.

“It’s not just the diapers though love; it’s… _holding_ them, feeding them, getting them changed, Emma, just…”

“Have you been worrying about this?”

“Um?”

“You’ve thought about all this, before tonight I mean, right?”

“Aye.”

She’s not going to tell him that he should have told her, he would have eventually, she knows.

Still, now she’s aching to reassure _him._ He’s been so wonderful with her these past few months. He’s been understanding and caring. He’s been there for her through the tears, the mood swings, the breakdowns, and even the stupid midnight games vetoing just about every baby name ever for the most ridiculous reasons.

If he has been feeling insecure about his hand, or lack thereof, then Emma wants to help him through it. Any way she can.

“You’ve picked up my brother countless times, haven’t you now?”

He thinks about it, but nods.

“You’ve rocked him to sleep probably more times than _I_ have. I’m pretty sure you have unbuckled him from his car seat as well—”

“It’s not … _easy_ , love.”

“But you do it.” She counters quickly. “You can do anything with that hook, Killian, don’t sell yourself short.” She reminds him pointedly. She stares at him thoughtfully for a beat then, studying him until she realizes something. “But that’s not it, is it?” She asks him. Killian meets her eyes, but he’s quiet as Emma carries on. “Sure, having your hand back will make things like buttons and diapers easier, but…is not just that, right?”

He’s quiet at first, but then he shakes his head.

“My hook, Emma, it, well…it’s a weapon, and…a babe…”

She purses her lips, looking at the way he’s mindlessly hiding his hook behind himself now.

She doesn’t like it; she _hates_ it even, so she goes to grab it again and brings it up so it’s squished between them. “It hasn’t been _that_ for a while.”

“Aye.” He says, but it’s hardly heartfelt.

“We can always baby proof it if you think our little human’s going to be born with a penchant to impale himself on sharp objects, you know?”

That actually _does_ make him smile properly, and Emma grins in return. “I don’t think it’ll be necessary, but we’ll do whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”

Killian considers her words for a moment before giving a nod. “Aye love,” he says, smiling at her softly. His expression changes after a small moment though and he narrows his eyes. “You don’t want me to get my hand back?”

“It’s not that,” Emma assures him quickly. “It’s not that at all, Killian. I just…It don’t want you to do it for all the wrong reasons. If you wanna do it because it’s what you want, my, _do it_ , Killian, but not because you think you aren’t good enough just as you are. Name me one person who can sail your freaking ship the way you do? _One handed?”_

Emma doesn’t even give him a chance to reply before she continues. “Or swordplay the way you do? You have to admit the hook comes in handy quite often during crises, doesn’t it?”

Killian’s head actually tilts to the side at that, and he nods.

“Besides,” Emma says. “It’s the perfect cup holder, never mind you _are_ especially skilled with that thing when it comes to _me_ , so…” She leaves her sentence hanging, smirking at him all too knowingly.

“You’re playing dirty, Swan.”

She grins at him mischievously in return. “I just want you to understand that I love _you_ , okay?” She stresses, her tone shifting more serious this time. “ _All_ of you, including your hook.” She pauses, eyeing him quickly. “ _And_ your rings, hell, your guyliner, and leather pants too. I love _you_ ,” she promises. “And do wanna know something else?”

“What?”

“So does the baby,” she whispers playfully. She grabs his hand and moves it to the side of her rounded stomach. “It told me so, but shush, I wasn’t supposed to tell.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes down where his hand is touching her stomach. “I love you both, Swan.”

“I know.” Emma replies easily. She gives him a moment to gather himself back, to breathe deeply, and compose himself before she speaks again. “Wanna go home now? We can sleep on this, Killian. You don’t have to decide _right now.”_

His expression visibly softens and he smiles at her relieved. “Home sounds heavenly right about now, love.”

Emma beams. “Home it is.” She nods, standing on her tiptoes slightly, just enough to kiss him fully on the mouth before scurrying to the back room. “Let’s pack all the baby’s things in the car okay?” She shouts from the back. “Mom already took some stuff, but there’s still lots, so make sure we aren’t forgetting anything.”

“On it, love.”

Emma simply smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;  
> ;  
> ;  
> I've had bit and pieces of this one written for almost two years now (?!?) I honestly had no idea what to do re: his hand in this "universe". I always wanted to give it back to him, seemed so easy to just have Emma magic it back, but oh well, apparently in canon he'll get to keep his hook so...........idek, after knowing that finishing this was surprisingly easy. Go figures :)


	9. once again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cs + Daddy Charming + baby numero two *shrugs* I have feels kay? ;D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so....a bit of a canon divergence of sorts? After 702 I ended up thinking a lot about the timeline and how to make this universe work within our new canon and it actually wasn't *that* hard to figure out! I actually always headcanoned they'd have a hard time with baby number two...I always figured Estella (aka numero uno) came easy enough, therefore the uh oh surprise baby (lol) but I always thought they would have to actually try for #2, so I adjusted the timeline a little here with this (not that timelines mean anything in the show anyway, but ya know what I mean ;D I started this kind of sort wanting to parallel the very first chapter of this bit of the series, but then it spiraled out of control ---I apologize!  
> that said, I still have so many feels yet to feel so...here's this <3

 

— ღ   —

She wants to tell David.

She’s known for a while, she’s gone through the motions of the whole thing again, and she’s at that point when it finally feels  _real_ and she may be ready to start telling people.

She may even have a semi  _actual_  bump to show for it now and all.

Despite of how much she’s tried to hide it these past few weeks, the little thing seems to be growing at an almost alarming rate these days and maybe that’s why she needs to do this.

She’s ready, she thinks —probably not to tell the entire town just yet, but David —Emma wants ( _needs)_ to tell her father.

— ღ   —

The day is miserable, pretty much; rain and gloom and not the slightest bit of sunshine to be seen.

Emma hardly cares though; she drives to her parents’ farmhouse anyway, she steps out of her bug, and off to face her father she goes (squeaky bright yellow rubber boots on and all). 

— ღ   —

She finds him at home, drinking a lukewarm cup of coffee he completely forgets about the second she steps in his door.

He stands up and gives her a hug before Emma can even put a  _hello_ in. His hug is warm and Emma feels any remaining anxiety dissolving at his affection.

It’s stupid, how sometimes she still feels like she has to pinch herself in moments like this. She has a father —a doting stupid father she has wrapped well around her finger.

She loves him so much.

“Did you have breakfast yet?” David asks her almost immediately.

It shocks Emma, in a good way, how a random visit in the middle of the morning ( _not at all usual —she should be working_ ) doesn’t ring any bells to her father. It hasn’t even crossed his mind something may be wrong and that just comes to show how damn far Storybrooke has come since the days Emma first arrived.

She can’t say the change of pace doesn’t please her.

“I had some cocoa before leaving home just now?” Emma says, playfully letting her words hang.

David chuckles and doesn’t need her say more. “Pancakes?”

Emma bites down a laugh —her father, bless his heart, even after all these years, is still clueless as ever and she couldn’t love him more for it. “Waffles maybe?”

He nods without hesitation. “Waffles it is…”

— ღ   —

Emma almost forgets the reason of her visit as the morning wears on. It’s still pissing rain out so David tells her he’s taking the morning, probably the day off.

“ _There’s not a lot I can do with this weather you know?_ ” He told her before, smiling at her warmly before also saying, “ _I’m glad you stopped by, sweetheart.”_

Emma had nodded simply, continuing to make easy conversation with him while also devouring more than her fair share of her father’s awesome waffles.

— ღ   —

David’s seeing to the dishes (having already stopped Emma when she tried to take hers to the sink herself) when she remembers just why she’s there. She’s sitting at the kitchen table, and before she can’t stop herself, she’s moving her hand down to her tiny, albeit perfectly rounded belly under the table.

She watches David for a little while longer though, the way he’s hand washing every plate and utensil despite the most likely empty dishwasher next to him. He’s a great dad, she thinks, never mind an incredible man in his own right.  

It makes Emma glad to know her newest little boy will have just about the greatest role models in  _both_  Killian  _and_  David.

The thought makes her smile, also almost giggle with anticipation at her dad’s reaction.

“Um dad?”

“Yeah?” He doesn’t turn to look at her just yet; he carries on hand drying the dishes he just washed.

“I actually have something to ask you,”

At this he sets down the plate he was holding as well as the dishtowel, and turns to her.

“Is why I came,”

He looks at her for a beat, before nodding. “Sure, what is it?”

“I may need you to mind the station for me for a little while in a few months?”

David frowns, clearly confused by the request. “Um, okay —but, what about your  _staff_  Emma? Don’t you have enough men working already these days?”

Emma groans because  _yes, she does have what should be enough men to mind the station without her, and yet..._  “Everybody except for my husband are complete incompetent  _idiots_ dad! Did I tell you they stopped traffic the other day just because  _they could_?” She shakes her head, hardly still believing it herself. “I wanted to throw all of their asses in jail that day,”

“You did not?” He asks her, incredulously.

Emma smirks. “I almost did, actually. Killian stopped me,”

David makes an  _aha_ face, and hums. “He’s gone soft,”

Emma doesn’t reply but she may or may not be matching her father’s silly smile right then. She needs to just say the words now or she’ll explode though.

“My point is,” she carries on. “Killian and I are going to need a few weeks away when the baby comes in the fall so, uh, do you think you can help us out? Please?”

The words don’t compute in David at first —at all. Emma watches him closely, his stand relaxed against the kitchen counter as he opens his mouth to reply but then —then he freezes.

“Uh— what did you just say Emma?”

Emma fights back the urge to smile at him too widely. “I asked you if you could mind the station for m—”

“No,” David interrupts. “Not that,”

“Oh,” Emma grins at him, playing stupid. “You mean the part when I told you I’m pregnant?”

David doesn’t reply —his mouth drops open and he just stares at her for the longest time.

Emma bites her lip keeping herself from laughing at him. She watches as David slowly processes the new information.

“You’re pregnant?” He asks her then, awe like wonder in his tone that just about make Emma want to cry in her spot.

She knew this was the right thing to do. They’ve talked about starting to tell people finally, and  _now,_ after telling her father, like this, just the two of them, Emma thinks maybe she is finally ready to properly share her news with whoever wants to listen.

“Yeah, I am…” she replies, the smile on her face almost as grand as the one that keeps growing on David’s face.

He moves to her in seconds, gathering her in his arms once more this morning, yet this time with so much more intent. “Oh honey,” he coos in her hair, his hand cradling the back of her head closely in that way that only  _he_  does. “Congratulations,” he says, pulling back slightly, searching for Emma’s eyes. “I’m so happy for you sweetheart.”

Emma nods at him, her throat suddenly feeling too tight to reply. She lets him hug her again, his warm loving hug reassuring her about everything she has —everything she’s yet to have. Everything that’s coming.

— ღ   —

They sit back at the table after a few moments when they both regain some of their composure.

David reaches for her hand on the table, and Emma gladly allows him to squeeze it reassuringly every so often.

“Did you just find out?”

She makes a silly face at that, she knows it’s a fair question, but still…“Actually,” she says. “I’m already almost half way there,”

“What?” David asks, his eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Emma shrugs, smiling at him. “We, well, mostly  _me_  —I was a bit hesitant to tell people at all.” She confesses. “It took us so long to actually get here, to get that positive that I think it made me cautious. I guess I was afraid something was going to go wrong …”

David nods at her words, understandingly. “Nothing has gone wrong though, obviously…”

“Nope,”

_He_  watches her carefully now, tries to guess what she hasn’t said yet. His eyes narrow ever so slightly before he speaks. “What changed today? What made you decide to come and tell me  _today_?”

And yeah, it appears she’s not just an open book to her pirate husband, but her dad as well.

Ah well.

She smiles because she can and because she  _is_ happy and this actually feels very right. “I properly felt him kick and tumble around today —it was the first time.”

“Emma,” David says, and that is all he says —all he  _can_ say.

Emma shrugs again, tries to make the moment less significant than she feels it is. “I know,” she tells him back anyway. “I think, all things considered, the little pirate is well and growing, so I just wanted to tell you, you know?”

“Yeah,” David breathes out, squeezing her hand. They are quiet for a moment, the actual significance of their whole morning sinking in. He sighs after a moment. “Your mom did mention something before, a while ago, about you guys trying,”

Emma doesn’t especially want to talk about  _that_  part but well…she can’t exactly lie to him either. “We were actually almost ready to call it quits, it was becoming too stressful and pointless, but then...I don’t know, we found out when I was already eight weeks in. We weren’t expecting it after so many months of nothing but…it did happen, and we are pretty happy about it.”

David can’t help the smile on his face. He nods at her. “I’m very happy for you and Killian.”

“Thank you dad.”

David simply nods, squeezing her hand once more. “You haven’t told anyone else?”

“Nope,” Emma replies. “I wanted  _you_  to know first for some reason,”

David’s expression turns cocky suddenly and she has to roll her eyes. “Well,  _actually_ , the kids  _do_  know already, so don’t go feeling  _that_ special.”

He chuckles, but still, “The kids?”

Emma smiles, a bittersweet thing. “Yeah well, we couldn’t exactly keep this from Estella. That sweet girl has been waiting forever to be a big sister, so when we were sure, we just  _had_  to tell her…”

David smiles at that, easily picturing the doting and incredible big sister his granddaughter is going to be.

“What about—“

“Do you remember when Killian and I went to see Henry a few months ago?”

“Yeah”

“We had found out about the kid like a week before that,”

“So you told him? He knows?”

“Yep,” Emma replies, but can hardly meet his eye. It doesn’t get any easier being apart —especially not now. Henry was here when she was pregnant with Estella —he was here when she was a tiny little infant and Emma would be a huge liar if she denied how much she hates he isn’t going to be here now when this new baby is born.

She feels for her kid a lot too, honestly. He gets the best big sister in the world with Estella, but he will also miss out on the best big brother.

“It’s going to be okay,”

Emma startles a little when David touches her hand and breaks her from her thoughts. She knows he’s right, she does, but her heart still feels heavy with that tiny bit of grief that never goes away.

“When are you due?”

She knows he’s just trying to change the subject, bring the smile back to her face, the giddiness she had before when she spoke about the tiny little pirate inside her.

She caves —mostly because despite everything, she  _is so_  happy about this baby. “November,” she replies. “Around the 14th, although I doubt he’s going to stay put that long considering how damn impatient Estella was,”

David nods; certainly, she has a point. “Hopefully he does stay put for a bit longer than Estella did though, right?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, her hand moving to stroke tiny little circles on her stomach. She’s been doing it so often lately, she doesn’t even think about it anymore. It amazes her, time and again, that she is actually growing a little baby one more time. It’s her last one, there’s little doubt of that, so she finds herself trying to enjoy the whole thing as much as she can.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“You keep saying  _he,_ do you know that for sure already?”

And before she can stop herself, a stupid grin grows on her face.

“You do?” David asks her, wonder and pure happiness in his tone.

Emma nods her head. “We found out pretty early actually,” she tells him. “During our first scan a few weeks ago the technician asked us if we wanted to know —apparently the baby was cooperating and giving him an almost perfect view of his, well, you know, his baby boy business…”

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, smiling at him brightly. “We are still getting definitive confirmation when we go for our next scan in a couple of days, but we’re pretty sure…”

“Wow,”

“I know,” Emma says simply. “You know, both Henry and Estella gave me a run for my money when I was pregnant with them —this little guy on the other hand, he’s a joy to have inside me.” She says, not really sure why, but suddenly just feeling  _okay_ about sharing all these things she’s kept to herself all these months. “I’m really getting big now and all, and my hormones  _are_  all out of whack, but  _nothing_  compared to the two before him. I had so little sickness with him —I haven’t even puked this time around at all. He makes me want to pee all the damn time but I can deal with that, you know?”

David simply nods at her, the joy in her eyes completely moving him.

“I hope he’s as mellow as I think he is now,” she confesses, a little cheekily. “Killian and I already deal with enough rambunctiousness as is with Miss Estella; a mellow little babe would be nice…”

Her words make David laugh; a lot because of the way she said them, but a lot too because he agrees —Estella probably brings enough rambunctiousness to their  _whole_ family as is.

“We already know his name too you know?” Emma says then, before David has a chance to speak himself.

His eyes go wide, but so does the smile on his face. “Are we going to get to announce it properly as we did Estella and our boys?”

Emma shrugs. “I don’t know. I could just tell you now if you want to?”

And that small twinkle in her eyes as she asks him, David simply can’t take it. He finds himself grinning, considering her question for less than a beat before he simply says yes.

Emma matches his grin, the giddiness she feels almost impossible to contain. For weeks,  _months_  really, this was their little secret. She was so afraid to share it with anyone outside Killian and the kids, but now…

Now she wonders why she didn’t do this before.

She moves closer to David, cups his ear with her hands, and whispers the name softly.  _“Oliver David Jones”_

David’s reaction is a gasp followed by a breathy, “ _Emma_ ,”

Emma shrugs at him, pretending she doesn’t see the tears forming in his eyes. “We would have given it to Estella if we weren’t sure she’d hate us and probably never speak to us again for giving her a horrible boy middle name, you know?”

David just stares at her in awe for a bit. Not a clue what to tell her back, but then he just smiles. “I’m...honored, Emma, thank you so much…”

Emma goes to squeeze  _his_ hand now. “We both  _really_ wanted it —kid has the best grandpa already, you know? It only seemed fitting…”

“Thank you, Emma,”

She simply shrugs once more. “It’s okay…” She says, but then freezes and looks at him as seriously as she can.

“What? What?”

Emma has to bite her lips to keep herself from laughing too soon. “You  _will_ mind the station for us when he’s born,  _right_? We’re naming him after you and all, you  _have to_!”

And that is all she has to say to have David laughing almost uncontrollably.

She smiles fully, her hand traveling down to her tummy as the tiny little pirate in there decides to finally wake up and join in her morning with her dad.

— ღ   —

When Emma gets home that day, Killian is already there and she finds the words just spilling out when she sees him. “I think I’m actually good telling people now,”

He doesn’t even have to ask her what she’s talking about. “Yeah?”

Emma nods at him. “Mmhmm,”

Killian just looks at her, at the silly happy expression on her face as she steps in closer to him in the kitchen. She stops, standing just at arm’s length from him and then shrugs. “Told my dad today,”

“Did you now?”

“Mm,” Emma hums, nodding.

“And…?” Killian smirks, unable to stop himself. “How’d it go?”

Emma just looks at him, a happy sigh escaping her as she caves in and moves into his embrace without thought then. His arms snake around her immediately and his hold is warm and perfect and exactly where she needs to be right now. She’s safe and happy and  _this_ is the feeling she sought after for so long. She has it now and she refuses to let it go for anything. “It went great,” she whispers, her face nestled as close to him as she possibly can. Killian’s hand reaches up, his fingers trailing up and down the length of her back.

He kisses her forehead, mumbling something Emma doesn’t quite get but she still smiles. “I know I made a bigger deal that I should about keeping him a secret, but…I guess it just didn’t feel real for the longest time. Now…now I think it’s okay, Killian…”

He’s quiet again for a while, carefully taking in her words before he just nods. “It is, love,” he tells her, reassuringly. “Does that mean we can properly start preparing for our babe and not just toss all of his things in the nursery?”

Emma laughs, her body shaking slightly against his. “Yeah, I guess it’s time we do...”

“Good,” Killian nods, his chin bumping against the top of her head.

“Killian?”

“Um?”

“The baby is properly,  _really_  kicking now,”

He doesn’t reply —not for a while, making Emma pull back just a bit to look up at his face. She feels her heart melting at the sight of that stupid full of love grin of his. “He is?”

“Yeah,” Emma nods, matching his smile. “I think he really is okay, you know?”

“Aye,” Killian replies, awe-like amazement wholly filling his every feature. He touches her stomach; he doesn’t speak, but does allow his fingers to softly move about her rounded belly. Emma’s still hiding it beneath a very baggy top, but it doesn’t stop him from stroking the exact spot his baby lies inside his Swan. “I think so too, love…” He agrees easily, his smile happy and full as Emma chins up and kisses him deeply.

Emma’s hand comes up to rest against his heart; she breathes slowly and relaxes against him once she’s pulled back. They are quiet, her eyes drift shut and she’s so at peace she can hardly believe this is her life and not a dream.

Her lips twitch upwards and she settles even deeper into his embrace letting out the quietest giggle she can manage.

Killian chuckles too, looking down at her smiley self, cuddled up against him, happy,  _radiant_. “Little pirate looks great in you, my love,”

A hundred and ten responses come to mind; she wants to tease him, disagree with him,  _agree_ with him _,_ but in the end, she just giggles again and nods.

— ღ   —

Emma’s heart sinks (only a little, but  _enough_ ) when she learns Estella has been mostly asleep since coming home from school. Her kid is seven going on seventeen these days, and the last thing in her vocabulary these days are afternoon naps.

Needless to say, Emma worries  _(a little)_

She crouches besides the couch Estella’s sleeping, and without thought, her hand reaches up to stroke her forehead. “Hi ducky,” she whispers.

Estella blinks at her voice; a sleepy, slow little hand coming up to rub at her eye. “Mama?”

“Mm,” Emma hums, smoothing that wild wavy hair of hers off her face. “Mommy’s here,”

Estella blinks slowly a few more times, her eyes failing to properly focus before she just hums and without saying anything else, goes right back to sleep.

Emma looks at her sadly, her heart breaking at her tired little kid.

“Is she okay, you think?” Emma asks as soon as she feels Killian stepping into the living room as well.

He leans against the wall, looking over at his girls and for a small moment, he’s quiet, just taking them in.

He takes in deep breath before replying. “I think she may be coming down with the sniffles or something,”

Emma frowns; it’s an immediate thing despite how much she also wants to grin. She turns to him then, looking at him pointedly. “The sniffles?  _Estella_  told you  _that,_ right _?”_

Guiltily, Killian smiles. He scratches at the back of his head and nods. “Aye,” he says. “We were reading after school, poor lass kept dozing off so when I asked her if she felt unwell, she blamed the bloody  _sniffles_ ,”

Emma’s face crumples a little as she looks back at Estella. She’s quiet for a bit, stroking her little girl’s forehead. She doesn’t feel a fever, or even clamminess or anything —it still breaks her heart that her kid isn’t feeling 100 perfect well.

“Did you give her any medicine?”

She doesn’t even look at him as she speaks, but Killian’s fine with that; he understands. “Not yet,” he replies. “She wasn’t feverish or in pain as far as she assured me —just a sleepy little lass…”

Emma hums, mostly to herself, her eyes still glued to Estella’s form.

Killian allows her (and himself) another moment or two to drink in the moment, the quietness, the stillness of it all. If memory serves him well, quiet moments like this are going to be rare and far in between once his newest son joins them earthside.

The thought alone; just picturing  _him,_ tiny and squirmy like Estella was, blonde and fair and perfect like Emma is, like  _Estella_  is too, loud and shrieky when mad, quiet and mellow when not, all of it,  _thinking_  about it alone makes him grin madly. “Hey love?”

Emma doesn’t reply, but does shift to look at him.

“Can you believe we are doing it from the very start once more?”

She gasps, the question catches her by surprise, but his words, once they sink in, plus the stupid grin on his face, are enough to make  _her_ giddy with excitement instantly. “I think I’m starting to.” She replies honestly —there’s no doubt that after  _today,_  her newest baby boy finally feels like a reality, and not just a hope and a dream too good to be true. “You?”

Killian flashes his most perfect grin at that question. “Aye love, it’s starting to sink in for me too…”

Emma nods, a happy, simply content smile on her face. She sighs deeply, her eyes returning to Estella. She bites her lips; containing her very own grin as  _yet another_ happy thought crosses her mind. “ _I_ get to tell  _her_  she’s  _finally_ allowed to tell everybody she’s getting a baby brother —I can’t wait to see her face!”

Killian huffs, his mouth opens to retort almost on instinct, but then he thinks better of it. He shakes his head at her, smirking all too knowingly. “As you wish,”

Emma meets his eyes at that. “I love you, too.”

 

 .

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_~~O U T T A K E  I *shrugs idek*~~ _

  — ღ   —

“Um, Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh, um…I—”

“ _What_?”

“Um, I mean, you told David, aye?”

“Um, yeah?”

“I mean, did you  _tell him?”_

“AH!” She lets out,  _finally_  getting what he’s talking about. “You mean, did I tell him the baby’s name?”

“Mmhmm,” he answers, just barely meeting her eyes.

Emma grins. “I did, actually,” she says, waiting for Killian’s reaction. He’s containing himself, she knows, slightly turning to look at her a bit more properly.  _Waiting_  for her to say more. Emma can barely stop the laugh from escaping.

“Love” he urges her, and that’s all Emma needs before she bursts out laughing. Killian rolls his eyes, frowning, but not quite able to keep the grumpiness too long. Her laughter is still one of the sweetest sounds he’s lucky enough to witness daily.

Emma caves, deciding she’s made him suffer enough as is. “I’ll deny it and probably kill you if you repeat this,  _but_ ,” she pauses on purpose, hoping to create even more stupid anticipation in him. She smirks at him, but then quickly carries on before he can complain. “There might or might not have been actual tears in my dad’s eyes when I told him…”

Killian doesn’t reply, his mouth does open and forms an almost ridiculously perfect  _O_  though.

Emma chuckles, looking away from him, and re-focusing in folding the laundry she’s supposed to have finished folding ages ago.

She hears him shuffling closer to her after a moment. He settles behind her on the bed, his arms wrapping around her, his chin lightly resting on her shoulder. He’s quiet at first, his eyes blinking slowly against her, his mouth pressing soft butterfly kisses to the exposed skin of her shoulder, her neck, her cheek…

Emma closes her eyes, relaxing against him and completely forgetting about the pile of clothes in front of her. “He was  _very_  happy about it,” Emma whispers after a while. She hears Killian humming and then nodding. He smiles against her neck and it makes her own lips tug upwards.

“I’m glad to hear that, love.”

It’s Emma’s turn to nod now. She’s pretty damn glad that was the case as well —not that she ever doubted it, but still, she’s  _glad_ about it as well. “Baby boy is so lucky to have you both,”

Killian ducks his face at that, burying it on her back. Emma chuckles. She opens her eyes just in time to see his hand traveling down to her rounded tummy —he does it more often now that she’s properly showing and he can actually  _hope_ to feel the baby tumbling about. He  _always_  hopes he will —even if the baby is asleep, he still tells Emma that ‘ _maybe he’ll wake up to say hello to daddy’._

It melts her heart, his love for their children. It’s unparalleled and probably one of the many many reasons she loves him so much more every day.

“I can’t wait to meet him love,”

Emma smiles, she wants to tell him right then and there that she loves him so much —again and again. That she’s so so grateful for him, that she can’t imagine a better father for her kids.

She settles by moving her own hand down to cover his on her stomach. She tilts her head so that she can kiss him and not a word needs to be spoken then.  _He knows_. He knows exactly how she feels.

“Soon,” she does mumble after a beat, making Killian nod slowly. “Soon we will…”

“Aye, love… _soon_ …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more things,  
> \- any Baby BOY Jones in my book HAS to have David as his middle name! HE HAS TO! lol  
> \- also, I haven't posted much with babe #2 (aka sweet Oliver), but he's actually been around in my head (and in WIPs) forever. There's actually a whole story behind his name but I haven't gotten around to finish writing that one. I never intended for him to share a name with Gosh's real life babe, but oh well....like I said, he's been around a while, I can't change his name now LOL!


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